
Book JS^fS 



Gop>TightN°_nMi 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



The First Shearing 



BY 

M. BATTERHAM LINDESAY 

Ok Asheville, N. C. 



I,/ 







ISirljutuuD. llirgiuia 



Whittet & vSheiterson, Publishers and Printers 
1904 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two CoDlcs Received 
JUN 24 1904 
j^ Cooyrfeht Entry 

Mux. ^ it-; C^P^- 
6LASS Ot- XXo. No. 

Cf I 1.1. C 

' COPY B 



.X5H VS 

\ ^04 



Copyrighted, 1904, 

BY 

M. BATTERHAM LINDSAY. 



BaUhnorf, ^[d., Octolwr ig^ iSSj. 

For Nancy's sake I have bee^i strong ayid true ; 

For her dear sake I have been bold and brave , 
And zvho shall say, because the skies are blue, 

That I have but a nieniry and a grave? 



PREFACE. 

It is with much trepidation that this vohime 
of fugitive ^'erse is issued to the puhhc. To cheer 
the duh hours of a few dear women, cliiefly mothers- 
in-law and stepmothers, the authoress has dared to 
infringe upon the pul)hc sympathy — trusting that 
longsuffering element, while considering the motive, 
will condone the offence. M. B. L. 



CONTENTS. 

Page. 

The Day's Work, 13 

The Kindergarten Work, 14 

The Old Home by the Nene 15 

A Portrait, 16 

A Thanksgiving, 17 

Cease Thy Fears, 18 

The Bride's Song, 19 

Bonnie j\Iay 21 

Woman's Crown, 23 

A Birthday Wisli, 24 

An Acrostic, 25 

The Ex- Slave, 28 

Woodland Notes, 29 

Written for the Montford Mother's Club, 30 

Draining the Zuyder Zee, 31 

The Wise Man, ;i2 

Expression, t,^ 

To-Day, 34 

A Story of the Sea, 35 

A Requiem, 38 

Mary, Queen of Scots, 39 

My Sweetheart, 40 

Lines to a Shut-in, 41 

The Gospel of Health. 42 

Who Knows ? 43 

The Cemetery 44 

Bill Nye's Neglected Grave, 45 

The Cemetery at Night, 46 

United, 47 

A Fragment, 48 



6 THIl FIRST SHEARING. 

Page. 

Easter Even 49 

Pm it By, 50 

To W. B., 51 

My Neighbor's Light, 32 

To a Sick Friend 53 

Hope 54 

A Reminder 55 

Answer to "Dawn in Russia," 56 

At Rest, 57 

Home, 58 

A Man and His Mother, 59 

The Old Folks' Christmas, 60 

John O'Leary, Hero 62 

Whittet"s Sonnets, 65 

Taxing the Bachelors, 66 

Funeral of Queen Victoria 67 

Twain's Christendom, 69 

The Building of Zion, 71 

The Men of Caister, 74 

What Matters ? 78 

The Sweetest Thing on Earth 80 

Encouragement 82 

To Whom it May Concern 83 

Lenten Verso 85 

Words, 86 

To an Old Lady 87 

Not Death, 88 

Patience and Strength 8p 

The Birds 90 

Toleration 91 

A Lost Love 92 

Lines on the Receipt of a Nurse's Photograph 93 

A WHiite Day, 94 

A New Country 95 

Prosperity, 96 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Pagk. 

Words of Cheer 97 

Faithless Work 98 

To A. M. C, 99 

00 

03 

05 
06 
08- 
09 
10 
II 
12 
13 
14 
15 
16 

17 
18 

19 
20 
21 
22 
23 
24 
25 
26 
27 



The Right Kind of Boy, 

Sister Jackson's Prayer 

Enough, 

The Sorrowful Star 

Rain in the Street, 

A Word for the Sparrow, 

Servia's New Dynasty, 

A Lesson in Floods 

A Saving Grace, 

"Vote as You Pray," 

Sunshine and Shadow 

The Land of Make-Believe, 

To E. R. B 

Next to Nothing 

A Universal Prayer 

To the St. Barnabas Guild of Nurses. 

The Editor, 

The Spirit of the Hills, 

Education, 

The Building of a Home, 

What is Worth While 

Driftwood 

Nearer Home 

Rain in the Woods 

Johnny's Story 

To M. R. B., 

The Quiet Day 

A Grain of Salt 

Rock Ferns, 

The Beauty of Imperfect ion 

The Word that's Left Unsaid 

A Picture 



9 

30 
31 

32 

^^ 
35 
36 



8 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

Vm.b. 

The Unspeakable Turk, 137 

Justice: A Picture, 138 

The Story of a Rose, 139 

A Thought Reclothed 143 

Tahkceostee 145 

Sonship 146 

Lines on the Death of Miss Amelia Miller, 14S 

A Borrowed Expression. 149 

Nesting-Time, 1 50 

To a Voyager, 151 

Song 1 52 

To a Nurse, 153 

A View from the Pearson Estate, 154 

A Cradle in the House, 155 

The Soul's Yearning, 156 

Little Shoes 157 

Wrinkles, 159 

Un and Again ! 160 

Mary Lee, i6t 

The Woods, 1 62 

Old Letters, 163 

To a Flock of Wild Geese, 164 

To a St. Bernard 165 

Three Roses 166 

The Source of Happiness, 167 

The Sculptor's Test, 168 

Life 170 

No Mercy for Him, 171 

Wiiat Is It ? 172 

"Ould Ireland." 173 

Thy Will 175 

'•'A Born Poet," 176 

England and America, 177 

A Plea for the Birds, 178 

The Newest New Woman, 179 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



9 



I'AGK. 

The Last Word, i8o 

"Declined, with Thanks," 182 

The Threat of a Three-Year-Old, 183 

An Incident of Pinewoods Fire, 184 

One Day, 186 

"Witchwood," 187 

A Mother's Grave, 188 

To S. H. H 189 

Homeless 190 

Tree Planting, 191 

To a Sister, 192 

The Baby, 193 

Wherefore ? 195 

Morning Voices, 196 

The Laborer, 197 

A Snmmer Night in the South 198 

H— 199 

One of the Sweet Old Chapters, 200 

Remove, 201 

To a Singer, 203 

It is Well, 204 

To a Mother, 205 

A Timely Question, 206 

The Fate of Aaron Burr's Daughter, 207 

On the Election of President AIcKinley, 209 

Gladstone, 210 

Croatan, 211 

Death, 213 

The Feast Spread, 214 

Lines to a Bride, 215 

William C. Whitney 216 

The Open Grave 217 

Aunt Nancy, 218 

Gone Before, 219 

The Fall of a Tree, 220 



JO THE FIRST SHEARLWG. 

Page. 

Take Heart of Ciracc 224 

Grandma --5 

What Mean the Words ? 226 

The New Sonth 227 

To N. G 228 

Christian Resignation 229 

The Old Religion 231 

A Name 2:^2 

The Coming of the Christ Child 233 

Little Cecil 236 

The La])or of the Hands 237 

H. M. S 238 

Anent the War 239 

Lost ■" 241 

Over the Tay 242 

To a Beantifnl Woman 244 

An Incident of a Fire 245 

Courage. Grit. Honor 246 

A Fable 247 

To a Minister of the Gospel 248 

The First Thanksgiving 249 

A Minister's Wife 251 

The New Year 252 

]\Iarch Winds 253 

L'se Your Talent. 254 

B\- the Log Fire 255 

A Picture 256 

Trinity Church 257 

Longfellow 258 

Innocence and Guilt 259 

The Burial of Tennyson 263 

The Railroad Boys 264 

Lines Addressed to the State Organizer. Sons of Temper- 
ance ?^^ 

God's Mercy, 266 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 1 1 

Page. 

Mother's Day, 267 

Merrie Christmas, 269 

Ox-Ejre Daisies by Moonlight, 270 

The First Rose 271 

The Day Dawn 272 

The Optimist 274 

Pea Vines in November 275 

Good Friday, 276 

To a Feathered Visitor 277 

Sins of Omission, 278 

Easter, 279 

A Word, 280 

Autumn, 281 

A Rose in November, '. 282 

A Grand Thought, 283 

The Camp-Fire, 284 

The Mine at Hot Springs 285 

An Autumn Walk 286 

Hemp, 289 

By Their Fruits 290 

After All, 291 

To a Loved One, 292 

Shakespeare 294 

A Word for the Dog 295 

A Plea for the Wildwood 296 

A Word of Truth 297 

Finis, 299 



AN INTRODUCTION, 

She saidy " This is my black sheep^' 

'The Mater dear^ one daw 
I caught my breathy but straightway laughed 

The passing joke away. 
I was a little bit surprised^ 

But neither hurt nor wroth ^ 
lor oft, I knew, the black sheep's wool 

Becomes the finest cloth. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 

The Day's Work. 

If you have eased some soul to-day, 
Have helped it upward ou life's way: 
And, if you were to die to-night, 
Your hands would not be empty, quite; 
You'd bear one sheaf of golden grain, 
To show you had not lived in vain. 

If you have taught a child to shun 
The paths of evil, or have done 
Enough to make a sinner turn. 
And for the ways of virtue yearn — 
Then, though all earth be on the wane. 
Your song shall be the victor's strain. 

And if you never turn awav 
The hungry from your door, nor stay 
Your hand to heed the sufferer's cry, 
It matters not what wealth goes by — 
You have the treasure that shall stay 
When all the earth has passed away. 



14 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A Kindergarten Som 



Little hands so weak and small, 
Scarce can lift or bring at all; 
Helping" mother every day, 
In their own sweet, gentle way. 



Picking up so clean and neat 
Everything beneath our feet ; 
Waiting on the baby, too — 
Little hands so much can do. 

Little feet that dance away 
All the long, glad, busy day; 
"J^'otting ever in and out — 
Wonder what they are about? 

Running errands to the store, 
Ever hurrying on before. 
Little feet and little hands. 
Greatest help in all the lands. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



15 



The Old Home by the Nene. 

The old house by the river Nene, 

Stood in the poplar's shade, 
\\'hen we were little children, 

And in the pastures played: 
They tell me they are fallen now. 

That all have passed away, 
Yet there is much that is the same, 

As in that by-gone day. 

The holly-tree is standing where, 

\Mien earth was white with snow. 
We used to watch the robin hop 

So boldly to and fro ; 
The walnut trees are just the same, 

The filberts bearing still ; 
I never taste such nuts as theirs: 

Of course, I never will. 

The cherry-tree is now forgot^ 

Tm rather glad 'tis gone, 
It used to give me nettle-rash 

Whene'er I climbed upon ! 



1 5 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

The violets beneath the hedge. 
They say, are blooming yet, 

Their fragrance and their modesty 
I never can forget. 

Ah ! Memory loves to linger back, 

With i)leasure nearly pain, 
To other scenes and other days 

^^'e cannot know again: 
And so I think, while life shall last, 

Though ocean rolls l^etween, 
Each one of us will cherish still 

"Our Old Home bv the Nene." 



A Portrait 

I KNOW a man. 
When fortune fa\-ors him, he is a gentleman, 
And this to all; but when adversity. 
Cold, chilling, cruel, sweeps over him and his, 
He is a king, commander of himself and circum- 
stance. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



17 



A Thanksgiving. 

Father, we thank thee! 
For the IjonncHng- pulse of hfe; 
For the strength to stem the strife; 
For the right against the wrong; 
For the music and the song; 
For the love that we can bring ; 
For the thought with eagle wing; 
For the soul that soars above 
Earthly hope and human love; 
For the mind whose gifted eye 
Can Omnipotence descry; 
For the hope of life to be, 
For Redemption's mighty plea ; 

Father, we thank thee ! 

Father, we thank thee ! 

For the earth to mankind given. 

Sky and air and highest heaven. 

For the cloud and rain and sun ; 

Nature's blessings every one ; 

For the trees and leaves and flowers, 
2 



1 8 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

Making Eden of earth's bowers; 
For the shade and for the shine, 
Every boundless gift of thine; 
For the mighty throl3l)ing- sea, 
Fittest emblem here of thee! 
For all things that li\e and move. 
Constant sureties of thy l()\'e; 
Father, we thank thee ! 



Cease thy Fears 

Cease tliy fears, dear heart, for me ; 

The world is \ery wide. 
And man}' souls are tossed abi»ut 

By ever\' wind and tide. 
Mow blest are we, who, anchored safe 

In haven wide and still. 
Secure from every blast that blows, 

And safe from e\-erv ill. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



19 



The Bride's Song. 

An Incident of a Recent Disaster. 
"Nearer, my God. to thee." 

It was on a railroad journe)'. and a }'oiuhful l)i-ide 

was there. 
\\ itli a gay and merry part}', and the bridegroom 

hov'ring near ; 
riie}- were Ixumd for some fair cit}', where the gay 

and gifted throng. 
And the merr}- hmgh and chatter made the jonrney 

seem less long. 

But the bride was sweetly silent, and from ont her 
dark-lmed e}'es 

Looked a sweet and winning gladness that had kin- 
ship with the skies : 

And I thought the l)ridegroom lingered with a 
tenderness at rest. 

All unconscious of his ardor, in her presence simply 
blest. 



20 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Tlien upon the sliades of evening, as we neared the 

city's din. 
O'er the party's merry laughter came a stilhiess 

creeping in ; 
It was but tlie hush of niglitfall o'er the wearied 

frames of men, 
Coming as a soft 1)enison, and as hush of l)eauty 

then. 

And one called for songs of worship, as the train 

went on its wa}' ; 
Then the bride's sweet voice was lifted in the hymn 

of parting day, 
Thrilling with a wondrous sweetness, swelled her 

\oice e'en unto me. 
In those words of holiest yearning, with the 

"Nearer — " and '' — to thee." 

Averse by verse the hymn was caroled in that fair 

girl's happy tone. 
And I thought 'tw'as ended, surely, only — only 

just too soon; 
When, alas! there came a crashing, and a horrid. 

roaring din. 
And a plunge and fearful havoc as the fire came 

pouring in. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 2 1 



We had met a dread disaster. Very few were saved 

that day, 
And the l)ride beside her cliosen in the death sleep 

silent lay, 
Nevermore to glad the hearers with the sweetness 

of her voice, 
Yet she surely gained life's fulness in the "Nearer" 

of her choice. 



Bonnie Ma 



y- 



Deal with her gently, O ye censors, now ! 
By the folded hands and the fair young brow; 
By the years that have gone, and the days to be 
When we shall understand and see - — 
Shall know so much that i)uzzles us here — 
Well for us now to bear and forbear. 



THE FIRST S HEAR IX G. 



Woman's Crown. 

XoT in her heauty or learning, 

Not in her p^wer to please, 
Xiir ni her myriad ehanges, 

Thdugh the world has a ])lace for these. 

Xot in the word that is spoken. 

Or in the deal that is done. 
The l)eaut}' of life nnhroken. 

The crown ni her life is won. 

X^othing that gifts can gi\e her. 

X"(^ grace of form or heart: 
Memories that m.ay ontlixe her — 

Xothing of simplest ])art. 

Xothing of cultured wisdom. 

And naught of tra\el wide — 
'I he crown of lier life will hnd her. 

In the glow of her own tiresicle. 

In the smiles of tlie infant faces 
That turn to lier own at night. 

In the grace of all earthly graces — 
In motherhood's delight. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



23 



A Bushel of Corn. 

A BUSHEL of corn, of golden corn, 

That u]) on the cornstalk grew, 
From a tin_v blade t(^ a graceful plant. 

That storm and sunshine knew. 
A bushel of corn, what will it bring"? 

For the man wIk) sowed and tended, 
Forty cents — -'tis the farmer's share. 

And, of course, it can't be mended. 

A bushel of corn. For the railroad, then, 

OiiL' dollar to pay for freight; 
Four to the manufacturer. 

To the liquor-vender eight. 
And what to the luan who drinks, you say 

'Tis a foreign word to spell; 
If 1 told it in English, it would sound 

Something much like — hell. 

DcUriuin trcincus! \\'retched wife. 

Children starved and lost. 
A bushel of corn, of golden corn. 

We cannot sum the cost. 



24 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

A bushel of corn; when the cornstalk bent 
To the kiss of the summer breeze. 

Was it demon or man that whispered it 
To turn into fruits like these? 



A Birthday Wish. 

January 22, 1903. 

Let us take old Time by the forelock 

And hold him fast to-day; 
'1 here isn't a bit of sense, my dear, 

For him to go on this way. 

For you are as young as you ever were. 
With a youth that cannot go by ; 

I can read it in your smile, my dear. 
By the love-light in your eye. 

And there is no need of wishing 

A birthday wish to-day, 
For every blessing is yours, dear, 

And so there is nothing to say. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



25 



An Acrostic. 

To A Lady of Asheville. 

May blossoms in the month of May, 
And roses till November, 
Rich beauties of the fields and woods 
Yield fulness of September. 

June, Ijeauties of the garden fair, 
April, with api)le IjIow ! 
A'o tongue can tell or pen can write 
Each blossom fading slow. 

Late in the fall, when thankful hearts 
Unison blessed know. 
Such regal beauties come to view. 
Kind Nature doth bestow. 

L' Envoi. 

Clover blossoms, red and white — 
^^d^at matter if the snow is near; 

So in your heart, about your path. 
The kindlier deeds of life are here. 



26 1'HE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Boy I Love. 

A soxG for llie l)i)y 1 l(;\e — G(kI 1)less him. 
\\ itli e}'es as I)r()\vn as the fawn that strays 
Thmngii leafy shadows, l)y woodland ways; 
"^'et without a hint of the startled fear 
That man has made so familiar there. 
Fearless and true in their depths so l)right, 
0\ertl()\ving" with lo\'e's own light — 
God love him. 

A wish for the hoy lloxe^ — God keep him. 
He may pass through life h}' \arious ways. 
He may know to-morrows and yesterdays, 
He ma_\' toil and stri\e for a banhle wain; 
He may drink to the dregs of loss and pain. 
He may soar so high that the hosts will tell 
He was God's own child, he hath conquered well 
Whatever it be, the high or the low — 
May heaven forfend and guide and know — 
God keep him. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 27 



.\ prayer for the hoy I love — Heaven save him, 
A heart to love and to trust God gave him. 
J can read it now in the lii^iit that lies 
Like a limpid pool in the nnt-lirown eyes; 
A mind so clear that my heart will qnail 
When I think of the counsels that mav prevail 
Till faith to my aid. like a Heaven-sent guest, 
Flies and settles herself, and I rest. 
Knowing full well that the hand that gave 
Can guide and cherish and oiiard and sa\'e. 



The Better Part. 

Better the homeliest cot on earth. 
With a soul that honors its heavenly hirth. 
Than the grandest palace in all the land. 
By selfish greed and earth's warring hanned. 

For a curse lies low' on the fairest spot, 
AAHiere Ciod and Love and P^eace are not : 
And a blessing smiles, with n(^ chill disguise, 
On the home where a soul is akin to the skies. 



28 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Ex-Slave. 

TiiEY turned hini loose, through l)lood and tears, 

A child in everything but years; 

One talent his and one alone, 

For lack of many might atone • — 

From childh(jod he had learned to work. 

And never knew the \erb to shirk. 

They gave him work, at first a dole, 
Enough the Ixxly and the soul 
To keep together; slowly then 
They let him find a place with men. 
Who toiled and dehed and sweated sore. 
That they might work and sweat the more. 

And now a time has come to him. 

'1 hrough the hard years, fast waxing dim, 

A time when he must turn for bread. 

To other hands, or star\e instead. 

Fie finds the world a dreary ])lace — 

It always has Ijeen to his race — 

And yearning for his grave-yard bed. 

He hath not where to lav his head. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



29 



Woodland Notes. 

I PASS througli a vast cathedral, 

At noon and at evening dim ; 
1 hear the early matins. 

I hst to the vesper hvmn ; 
And all through the Inisy daytime 

A spirit of worship Hes 
O'er me like a henediction 

Dropped from the starry skies. 

And once in a while, at noontide, 

I hear the drowsy hum 
Of the hees and the birds and the flowers. 

That ever to me say, "Come ; 
Come from the heat of the conflict, 

Come from the jarring strife ; 
A\'ith us is the dew of morning. 

With us is the breath of life." 

Sometimes at the hush of nightfall 

I enter the woodland still. 
When a peace beyond my knowledge 

Lies over vale and hill. 



30 



THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



O weary with earth's old 1)iirdens, 
O hearts that are seeking- rest. 

Tired toilers, for one and for all. 
Here is the l)alni of the blest ! 



Written for the Montford Mother's 
Club. 

A DEAR old lady said the other day, 
''^^'rite something of good women."' 

And I walked 
On tiptoe for a week, remembering- 
Good women I had known; then down tij earth 
And to a mother's clnb. How tine 
Of all earth's finest things is kindliness; 
The thonght for other's need. The gentle word 
Of sweetest cheer; the genial smile that tells 
Of qnick appreciati(»n ; and the clasp * 
Of hand to hand. It was my lot 
To know a sonl whose kindly smile and word 
Were like the frnitage of the vine, (lis])ensing wide 
A blessing to be held. Thns may we 
Cheer and be cheered along life's upward way. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 31 



Draining the Zuyder Zee. 

It reads like a fairy story, 

This draining- the Zuyder Zee — 

Thirty-six years of hard labor, 
Reclaiming- it from the sea. 

Spending- millions of dollars — 

Millions of tons of stone, 
jMillions of hands t(^ work it — 

Made by man alone. 

The dyke that will force the ocean 

Back to its ancient place. 
Keeping it there, 'tween Nature and man, 

A long-fought, hard-won race. 

It reads like a fairy story. 

How the dykes of Holland to-day. 
Hold the old ocean backward 

In spite of his icy sway. 

In spite of the tempests that batter. 
And of the storms that rise ; 

And now this wonderful project — 
Long is the head and wise, 



3^ 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



That has planned and summed and counted 
The cost to its smallest jot — 

And the returns incoming" — 
May old age be his lot. 

And age to be l)lessed with seeing 

The miglity project done — 
The battle against the ocean 

Accomplished, finished, won. 

Rich o-ardens where now the waters 
Sweejj in their might and main. 

Farms and houses and churches 
All over the fertile plain. 



The Wise Man. 

Only the fools will rail at fate. 
And of their hard luck vastly prate ; 
The wise man forges slow ahead. 
All of his purpose left unsaid. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 33 



Expression. 

There are no "voiceless singers." All strong souls 
Must find expression in some human touch, 

Knowing they are a part of who controls 
Each passing hour, by loving overmuch. 

There are no "useless chords" of human life, 
No broken harps that never tuned a lay. 

Somewhere amid the turmoil and the strife 

They have accomplished — justified their stay. 

The heart that loves can never love in vain ; 

For, like the lordly oak-tree, it will bend. 
Strengthened by storm, and using loss and pain, 

To be a greater blessing in the end. 

Expression is the counterpart of life. 

And finds its outlet, as the water runs. 

By devious ways, with untold beauty rife, 
A blessing 'neath a myriad summer suns. 

The bird that never sings must voiceless be; 

The plant that blooms not sheds a fragrance rare ; 
One lives by deeds as faithful and as free. 

The other suffers for its sweetness here. 
3 



34 THE FIRST SHEARINC. 



To-day. 

If you have words of kindness 
For some weak heart to-day, 

Gi\'e them, in fullest measure, 
Expression, while you may. 

If you have some great object, 
Some higher height to climb, 

Keep pegging at it, day by day, 
Just while you have the time. 

No matter what you live for. 
If short or long your stay. 

The whole is bound, for good or ill. 
In this one word — to-day. 

We held the past, but it has gone 
Beyond our ken, away, 

And all that we can call our own 
Is just this small to-day. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 35 



A Story of the Sea. 

A WILD Storm raged on the English coast, and a 

\-esseI struck that day, 
Out in the offing, where breakers hid, dashed by 

the foaming spray; 
And the dread signal of distress boomed over land 

and sea, 
While the waves mocked and the winds shrieked 

aloud in fiendish glee. 

But anxious watchers on the shore, brave hearts so 

strong and true. 
Cried, "Man the lifeboat," then — alas! Alas! 

what shall we do ? 
The leader of the lifeboat crew, brave Harry, is 

away 
Unto the city, and he was to be at home to-day. 

But nc\'er mind their leader, they could not wait for 

him, 
The ship must go to pieces, the day was growing 

dim; 



36 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



And through the angry waters the faithful Hfehoat 

sped, 
Manned hy her sturdy crew and strong unto that 

ship ahead. 

Ah! httle thought the watchers upon that storm- 
beat shore 

To see those noble seamen, their friends and kins- 
men, more; 

But lo ! the Lord is merciful; and back again they 
tossed 

With that ship's crew, save one alone, who must, it 
seemed, l)e lost. 

Then Harry rushed into the crowd, and asked why 

he was left ? 
And "Man the lifeboat!" shouted he; they thought 

he was bereft 
Of all his senses, and refused to make the trip again, 
While his old mother clung to him with \\-ords of 

fear and pain. 

'A'our father, boy, was lost at sea these many years 

agone, 
'A'our brother Will returneth not; you are my only 

one;" 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 37 

But Harry shook her gently off, and laughed her 

fears away, 
And launched again the lifehoat upon the foaming 

spray. 

Ah! little thought the watchers \\\)()n that storm- 
beat shore, 

To see their leader hold again, or meet his crew 
once more. 

Yet through the mighty tem[)est, the sturdy sailors 
passed. 

Unto the fated vessel now breaking up so fast. 

AVhite faces waited on the shore and eyes were 

strained in \'ain ; 
The dashing of the blinding spray came mocking 

back again, 
When o'er the noise of waters a voice rose clear 

and shrill, 
.\nd Harry's strt)ng voice shouted, 'AVe've got him 

— Brother Will !" 



38 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A Requiem. 

William McKinley. 

y\YE ! weep, Columbia, o'er thy noble dead ; 
Wide as the ocean is thy sorrow spread; 
This man of men who sleeps in death to-day 
Was Nature's chosen child ; and though away 
His spirit wings its flight, to sunnier shores, 
The glory of his birth and life are yours. 

Yet in thy sorrow indignation burns. 
That freedom's l)ounty should meet such returns 
That the foul weed of anarchy should dare 
To take its root, and l)ud and blossom here ; 
Bearing such fruit, in discontent and hate, 
And murd'rous madness that seeks but the great. 

But for the heart that mourns its mate to-day, 
In the fair prime of manhood swept away, 
The gentle woman's heart that stands alone, 
W^ords have no power to comfort or atone 
For its great loss; Init he who gives us breath 
Can soften e'en the bitterness of death. 



T?IE FIRST SHEARING. 



39 



Alone she mounieth not, for, far and wide, 
S\vee]:>s on the wail of mourning-, as a tide 
At fuH o'ertlowing', every boundary burst; 
She hath, this comfort — he was hers at first, 
His country's afterward. And so at last, 
He shall be hers again, all sorrow passed. 

S(T bear him homeward, to his place of rest. 
In the pure dignity he honored best ; 
And bend, Columbia, thy sun-kissed head 
In meek submission o'er th' illustrious dead, 
Remembering- in thy sorrow, God hath niig-ht. 
All things, in his good time, to flood with light. 



Mary, Queen of Scots. 

T KNOW not if thy fate wer,e just, 

Or if thy sins were so; 
I only know, as dust to dust, 

Thou drankest deep of woe : 
An infant lay upon thy breast, 

Was cradled in thy arms ; 
And if 'twas faithless — yet how blest 

A soul with half thv charms. 



40 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



My Sweetheart. 

My sweetheart is yoiuii^' and tender, 

My sweetheart is loyal and true, 
As a sapling snjjple and slender, 

With eyes of a nut-brown hue; 
A\ hen I awake at the dawning'. 

He kisses away my fears, 
And all through the busy morning 

He lightens my ceaseless cares. 

^Vhen the shadows of evening lengthen, 

And the work of the day is done, 
And I can refresh and strengthen, 

I turn to my sunny one : 
He never has failed to cheer me. 

He never has failed to bless. 
And I think that the angels are near me, 

When I bend to his sweet caress. 

He takes me by many a turning. 

With smiles in his loving eye, 
To the land of his tenderest yearning, 

The wonderful bye and bye : 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



41 



^^'hat we will have and what we will do, 

As sure as we are alive, 
Yon may smile, hut then it is really so, 

For mv sweetheart is scarcelv five ! 



Lines to a Shut-in. 

I THINK of you, dear heart, at morn and night, 
So patient and so strong, abiding- still 

In God's great goodness ; and towards the light 
Turning the soul, the mind, the heart, the will. 

I think of you, dear soul, with thankful joy ; 

That God should deign to give a human heart. 
All that is thine, despite old earth's alloy, 

The hand of Martha, with meek IMary's part. 

I think of you, dear heart, thr()Ugh busy hours. 
When life is flowing over full for me; 

And thinking, know, amid the thorns and flowers. 
Life has bestowed a fadeless bloom for thee. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Gospel of Health. 

'Tis on me ti> ])i"each a new gospel ^ — 

Print it in letters of gold, 
Grave it on e\'ery heart-tablet, 

A new, and yet 'tis the old; 
Old as the dawn of creation, 

\A'hen man was a true son of God; 
New as the daylight of morning 

That hlesseth from tree-top to sod. 

A gospel so glad and so joyous 

That, were it the whole world's choice. 
None would have reason to gruml)le. 

And all of the earth would rejoice: 
That waits for the sons of mortals. 

As storm-clouds gather for rain; 
That rich and poor, the high and the low. 

If their will is good, may attain. 

The Gospel of Health. Ah ! listen, 

It voices in every breeze ; 
It whispers o'er all creation. 

It rustles in leafy trees ; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



43 



You can hear it in every murninr 

Of all thing-s growing- still. 
You can take it and blossom and burgeon 

For your very oun. if you will. 

'Tis laughter and joy and gladness, 

'Tis heartease and sun and rain, 
'Tis peace and comfort and life itself, 

'Tis waving of ripening grain. 
'Tis the golden star of life's morning, 

'Tis the evening's restful glow — 
Man's old-time heritage of health 

That wisdom can bestow. 



Who Knows ? 

Out of the darkness and night. 

Out of the storm and the rain. 
Who knows what a world of light, 

]\Iay bloom to the day again ? 
Out of the sorrow and care ; 

Out of the wearying strife. 
Here or there or otherwhere — 

Who knows what may come to a life? 



44 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Cemetery, 



TnERp:'s a city l)ni]t l)y the river's flow. 

Whose streets no traffic or l)arter know; 

x\ beautiful city of \ale and hill 

That is ah\a}'s calm, and peaceful, and still : 

Where the hours are days and the days are years 

Apart from all sorrow, and loss, and tears. 

Each home has a resident, silent too, 

AVhose record was written long ago; 

And no\v there is nothing to mar their rest 

In the kindly care of dame Nature's breast; 

Apart from all needless doubt and strife 

They ha\e laid down the burden that we call life. 

There is nothing to make the strong heart sad; 
There is much to be thankful for and glad; 
For the many souls who have done life's best, 
Are laid for a season in peaceful rest; 
And the little graves of the children there 
Tell but of the Gardener's loving care. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



45 



'Tis a gTowing city, for scarcely a day 
Rut a new inhabitant comes its way; 
W'itli stately silence and solemn tread 
They come to their own, the quiet dead, 
Sure of a home in its peaceful rest, 
Where naught of ill dare the ways molest. 

And what do \Ae need, O mortal, vain, 

xA.fter the worry, the loss, the pain. 

But the tender care of the Gardener there. 

In the quiet vales of the otherwhere; 

Content and happy to he at rest. 

As a child asleep on its mother's breast? 

Bill Nye's Neglected Grav^e. 

(A False Report,) 

How he would joke! could he l)ut know it now 
This man who made us laugh, when other men 
Might ha\'e been giad to hitle their sad disease, 
And softly die. Not so our merry Bill. 

I h(^ld it true. 
That he wlm l)ring"s a smile is greater than 
The king u[)nn his throne; deserving well 

A monument indeed. 



46 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Cemetery at Night. 

Here is no terror. O'er the placid graves 

The mild moon sheds a soft, benignant glow, 

Xight after night — in wordless beauty laves 
The seeds of life that lie so still below. 

Some day I, too, may <twn a quiet home. 

Apart from all dull care and useless strife; 

And, far removed from e\-ery thought of gloom, 
\\'ithin this borderland of death and life. ' 

Peace lies alike on marble, swelling fair 

Its beauty to the night : as where they lie — 

The unforgotten poor; and here and there 
Foldeth the little mounds with not a sigh. 

So peaceful and so still! Oh! blessed sleep. 

'Twere worth a journey long to rest at last, 
Here, where no doul)t or morbid shadows creep 

The pitfalls and the rocks forever past. 



THE FIRST SMEARING. 



47 



United. 

Sipteinbci-, iSdj — iSSj. 

She sleeps witliin an English grave, 
Beyond the deep blue sea, 

Where bright-eyed daisies gem the sod, 
And scented violets be. 

The grass grows green above her there. 

The moss is on the stone, 
The hoary oak is bending o'er — 

She passed at early noon. 



Another fills a new-made grave. 

Dug by a stranger hand. 
Far, far away from that one there. 

In this fair, fertile land. 

A wreath of bright immortelles cast, 

A breath, a sigh, a groan. 
Ah! Life and Death, how near thou art !- 

He passed at highest noon. 



48 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



An angel wears a crown of Hgiit ; 

Another's placid Ijrow 
Is graven clearly with a Name — 

They are together now. 



A Fragment. 



There is so mnch that is grand in lite, 

So much that is good and true, 
So much with a living l)eauty rife, 
. For me as well as for you. 

So much to he seen on the outside. 

So much that lies within — 
By wind and sun, hy storm and tide. 

We gather the good grain in. 

Well that we liold a thankful heart, 

From care and envy free. 
To smile, to lahor and to part. 

And let the turmoil l)e. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



49 



Easter Even. 

I DO not need to tell thee, Lord, 

The failures of my life; 
My comfort is, thoii knovvest all, 

Along its lines of strife; 
Nor need I wear thy tender lieart 

With life's recurring cares, 
For blessed am I to know full well. 

Thy two-fold being shares. 

'Tis not for me to come to thee 

With tales of wRnt and sin ; 
Thy mighty heart in days gone by 

Hath drunk earth's sorrow in : 
And now, as nears the blessed day. 

Of thy returning reign, 
A happier theme be mi-ne to sing. 

Above all loss and pain. 



50 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Put It By. 

If you have a constant sorrow, 

^^'eig•hing like a load of care, 
Casting- gloom to-day, to-morrow 

Leaving- darkness everywhere ; 
Nurse it not with selfish sadness; 

Upward look with trustful eye; 
Life has many a fount of gladness, 

Humbly, bravely put it by. 

If you ha^•e a foe. embittered 

With the l)arl) of envy's hate. 
To an evil pur|)()se pitted 

'Gainst you early, 'gainst vou late 
Meet him not with self-same passion, 

Keep a clear, unclouded eve — 
Golden rule of life will fashion 

Into beauty — put it by. 

If you have a trouble eating 

At your heart strings dav bv dav, 

Do not waste your time in "greeting" 
O'er the chances slipped away; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 

From the hill-tups hope is calling', 
Live with purpose great and high ; 

Shadows in the valley falling, 

Lea\"e them gladly — put it hy. 

If within your life Ijehind you 

You ha\'e made a sad mistake. 
Do not let its hlackness blind you 

To the future you may make; 
Other lives ha\-e erred before you; 

Hel]) for them is needed nigh — 
Mantle of Heaven's love is o'er you — 

What else would vou? — Put it l)v. 



51 



To W. B. 

The world may give us greater men. 

"W^ith records just as fair. 
Beyond our hr)])e, beyond our ken. 

But never one so dear. 



5-' 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



My Neighbor's Light. 

1 DO ni>t know your name or face; 

Thc\' l)otli are strange to me; 
And far apart onr li\es must Ije, 

As "slii])s that pass at sea;'' 
But when the (hiy is fahing (hm 

Across my window pane. 
And natin'e croons a ^■csper hymn 

By breeze, or wind, or rain; 

Adown the hill there comes to me 

A streak of golden liglit, 
From your low casement riglitl)' set, 

]\Iy e^•ery e^•e's delight; 
It cheers me when I'm dreary, 

It lifts me when I'm sad. 
And when my heart is weary 

It makes me well-nigh glad. 

If yon should pass away from here. 

Or one day journey far. 
And close the house, I cannot tell 
.How I should miss my star; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



53 



A star of comfort, meaning' 
So much of cheer to me, 

So much of generous seeming, 
\\'liate"er it is to tliee. 



To a Sick Friend. 

God's mercy on your gentle heart, 

/\nd on your soul-ht eyes, 
Tlie liojie and strength that never part. 

This side the arching" skies; 
1 he hlest assurance day by day 

That grace t(^ you is given, 
Enoug"h to keej) you every way, 

Abfnit tlie courts of heaven. 

There is a vale, we know it well. 

That borders on the tomb. 
And yet to us who safely dwell. 

It has no breath of gloom ; 
For bye and bye a day shall come 

When life shall soar away. 
And heart and \'oice no more be dumb 

In God's most blessed dav. 



54 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Hope. 

Suggested by thk Interior of Bii.tmore Church. 
(All Soul's.) 

^^'TIAT care I for time or space? 
I'm an atom in life".s race; 
Stirred hy e\ery lireeze that l)lo\\s, 
Left alnne on trodden snows; 
I'nlsino- low and Ijcating- hioii, 
Ever 'tween the earth and sky. 

W'liat care I for space or time, 
Summer's sun or winter's rime? 
Thino's that come and thint^s that o-o, 
Joy and sachiess. smiles and woe; 
Song or sigh, 'tis all the same — 
Here long" whiles hefore I came. 

What care 1 for time or s])ace? 
Once again 1 see life's face 
Opening" to a lietter da}' ; 
Trusting ever, come what may; 
Knowing always, hye and hve. 
Dawns a clear, unclouded skv. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



55 



A Reminder. 

Do you remember the good old times, 

And the trestle we crossed at nio-ht, 
When the preacher })layed the Chaperon 

And kept ns both in sight? 
He tehs me now 'twas the happiest time, 

With a smile on his gentle face, 
But I think, my dear, in those halcyon days, 

\\ e led him a merry chase. 

Can yon call to mind the mighty \Yth 

That he saved von from one nig-ht, 
And the long, long walks on the highway, 

\\\\\\ the meetin' house in sig-ht? 
When the little Pine carried the lantern. 

Though the moon was shining bright. 
And the wayside stumps were ghostly things, 

And our hearts were — oh ! so light ! 

I think sometimes he was truly shocked 
Though he carried it off so well. 

And even now in these later days 
He will not ever tell. 



-C) THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Why, no! His heart is as true to-day 
As it was when we were young, 

i\.nd he passed with us on the golden way 
The l)oys and girls among! 



Answer to " Dawn in Russia. 

What hoots religious freedom 

To pe{)[)le who can slay. 
And mutilate and desecrate, 

As was done yesterday? 
Who says the chains are filed apart 

When deeds like these can be, 
When Russia plays a demon's part 

Beside a southern sea ? 

\Vhy tell the scattered races, 

To earth's remotest bound. 
A rest amongst earth's places 

The Muscovite has found? 
Why blazon out the deadly shame 

When rulers still deny. 
In face of wrongs, too ill to name. 

The victim's piteous cry? 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



57 



At Rest. 

UxDF.R the pines, in the shade, at rest, 

Lies the strong heart that we call our own: 

Long- was the way and hard the quest, 
i'nt we shall know as we are known. 

In the fair land that seems far away, 

Tho' really 'tis near — at our very side — 

Long has he trodden the hlessed way. 

Where peace and love nnist ever al)ide. 

It seemed not to him a foreign shore 

When he slipped away from our tightened hold 
There was one who had shortly gone before 

Awaiting him there in those courts of gold. 

The stream that he crossed was narrow and still, 
No turbulent foe was there to hide. 

With suspicion of loss or fear of ill, 

The beauties that lay on the other side. 

We trusted him then, and we leave him now 
To the loving care of a Saviour strong, 

The true, brave heart that could never l)ow 
To aught of deceit or guile or wrong. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Home. 

The poorest home can a palace be 

If tlie kingdom of love is there; 
It matters not what the world may see — 

Be the outside ne\-er so drear, 
If within there dwelleth a loving heart. 

A mind attuned to its sphere, 
A soul that dwells not in joy apart. 

But sheddeth its radiance there. 

Costly treasures that gold can buy. 

Bric-a-brac rich and rare. 
Ne'er charm the heart or delight the eye 

As a l)aby's well-worn chair; 
Lovely paintings on frescoed walls, 

The gems of art and the graces, 
Fall far behind \\ hat never palls — 

The sunshine of children's faces. 

Beauty and wealth may envy now 
The woman who stays at home. 

With the crown of love on her gentle brow 
Above life's rush and gloom; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



59 



Aye! talent itself may bow to her 
Who sits on a household's throne, 

In her bosom content and peace astir — 
The best of the world her own. 



A Man and His Mother. 

Lincoln. 

He stood at the head of a nation ; 

He was strong, he was true, he was brave; 
And they said he had come at a crisis. 

His people to honor and save; 
But few of them looked behind it, 

Xor do to this later day. 
To the woman that mothered and gave him 

His wonderful power to stay — 
To stand in the face of conflict. 

Of ills that thundered o'er him. 
To hold and to trust, to bear and to strive — 

As his mother had before him. 



6o '^"^^^ FIRST SIIEARIXG. 



The Old Folks' Christmas. 

The old folks live in the country, 

On a farm so hilly and ])are, 
'Tis a wonder to me how they ever raised 

Such strapi)ing young' men there; 
.And one was l)orn at the Christmas-tide, 

One in the sprins4-time fair, 
One in the days of harvest moon. 

And one with the dyiui;- year. 

They plowed and harrowed and hoed and g-ruhhed 

Picked herries and did the chores, 
.\nd li\'ed the life of the farmer's hoy 

\n all the glad outdoors. 
But the farm grew small to their eager eyes, 

i\nd the hills were a harrier passed. 
So, one hy one, till the}' all were gone, 

^dley left the home at last. 

Two in the city's husy stream 

,\re men of the \\-orld to-dav; 
One's a conductor on a ti"ain. 

.\nd one is a soldier gay; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 6 1 

But the old folks sit by the fireside, 
\Miere the logs are burning- bright, 

.\nd wish, with their thoughts unspoken. 
That the boys were home to-night. 

The turkey is stuffed to bursting, 

That mother raised with care, 
And guarded with jealous silence 

Through all the busy year ; 
The chicken pie is a kn'ely brown. 

And pum])kin pies are a sight; 
And they wonder with thoughts unspoken, 

'A\'ill the Ijoys be in to-night?" 

One has a sweetheart young and fair, 

One is too busy to-day, 
One is away with Uncle Sam, 

And one — there is nothing to say — 
But the table is set, for each a place. 

And the logs are Ijurning bright. 
And the old folks listen with eager face, 

"Will the boys be home to-night?" 



62 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



John O'Learv, Hero. 

NEV'iiR yet was sung Ijy poet greater love than this 

you tell ; 
Never sped a braver spirit on the land or ocean 

swell. 
Through the fate l)y lo\'e elected that O'Leary's life 

befell. 

'Twas that day of dread disaster, June the fifth, in 

ninety-two. 
Wdien the fire and flood were raging and the air 

was filled with woe — 
All the horror of twin demons madly raging to and 

fro. 

Many lives in Oil Creek Citv, and the villages close 

by, 
AA'ere gi\en up at call of dut}' when mi human help 

was nigh : 
Many more could only struggle in a vain attempt, 

and die. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



63 



There was flaming flood of water, there was raging- 
fire as well, 

And it has been said by witness that the place was 
like to hell. 

In its weight of awful suffering, horrible to hear 
and tell. 

John O'Leary's widowed mother, helpless in her 

chamber lay, 
AA'orn and white-haired, sick and feeble, as she had 

l)een many a day, 
AA'hen the torrent of destruction met the town upon 

its way. 

John that fated Sabl^ath morning quietly at home 
had stayed. 

Talking to his mother doubtless of a certain sweet- 
faced maid, 

AAdio another week would greet him, in her bridal 
robes arrayed. 

When the raging' flood descended vainh^ had he 

tried to bear 
To a place of greater safety that worn form he held 

so dear, 
Then he hastened to the doorway for the aid that 

was not there. 



64 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

To tlie hills one moment looked he, where, above 

the rising din, 
Safety, if he ventured singiy, h.e might surely hope 

to win, 
For one moment, then he turned to the woman lone 

within. 

"Mother," said he, "we must perish, by the fire or 

by the flood, 
I ha\e called in vain f(jr succor, mayl)e none have 

understood ; 
We can meet the end together; death is swift, and 

God is good." 

Looked she on him proudly, fondly, with no thought 

of selfish fear, 
"Son, the way is open for you, go at once and leave 

me here. 
Think of her who's waiting for you — how she 

loves you — hasten, dear." 

Knelt he softly by the bedside, as a child kneels 

down to pray. 
With the mother-love beside him that he was to 

crown that day. 
And a look on his young face showing his resolve 

to stav. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



65 



Thus they found thcni wlien the sunshine beamed 

upon another day, 
Slackened, charred l)eyond remembrance, one beside 

the other hiy, 
W here he knelt with hands uphfted, even as they 

passed away. 

Love is strong to men and maidens — mother-love 

is stronger still; 
By its power to give and suffer — - all its beauty to 

fulfill. 
But this love of John O'Leary savors of divinest 

will. 



Whittet's Sonnets.' 

It is as if a soul had passed within 

The holiest of holies, bearing forth 

The wine of life for thirsty souls without; 

As wine is given in cups, — these sonnets rare 

Fulfill the need of many a wayworn heart. 



66 'Z"^^^' FIRST SHEARING. 



Taxing the Bachelors. 

Tax them, dear heroes, one and ah, 
Who sh_\- from the married state, 

But while \n\\ are snaring- the wary hird 
l)e sure you capture the mate! 

For never a Jack hut has liis Jih, 

\A'hatever the skeptics say ; 
And once in a w hile tliere may he a wiH 

With nex'er the g-host of a \\ay! 

Tax them — hy all means — one and all. 
Who shy from our state to-day. 

With another tax and a big one, too, 
On the fair maidens gay. 

\\\m) fill the places of backward men. 
In gown and tie and curl — 

Jt is reall}- the same, for who is to blame 
But this Ijrand new bachelor eirl? 



THE FIRST SHEARING. ^y 



Funeral ot Qjieen Victoria. 

February 2, 1901. 

Bring forth ! Iiring forth ! the saintly Queen, 

And, guards, kee^) watch above her, 
That to the worUl it may be seen 

How much her people love her; 
Fire a salute — no guns be mute — 

This sovereign's meed of honor, 
Is human love, all ken above, 

A cloth of gold upon her. 

The stately ship that bears her on. 

Beyond all human waking. 
The silent fleets that wait upon 

The solemn undertaking : 
The mighty crowds in dark array 

That silently uncover, 
Attest each footstep of the way, 

How' much her people love her. 

The naval pomp and grand display. 
And military splendor. 



68 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The kings and princes of the day, 

Who solemnly attend her; 
I'lie serried ranks of sokhers trne, 

1diat mutely hend ahove her. 
Civilians, nobles, "boys in blue," 

How much her people love her! 

"Tis not the (_)neen alone we mourn. 

For \'ain is sovereign splendor; 
Far greater t(T the grave is borne. 

The woman pure and tender; 
A mother-heart that through long years, 

Her people's weal hath cherished. 
Through storms and conflicts, hopes and fears, 

With her forever perished. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



69 



Twain's Christendom. 

[The Red Cross Society held a chain of watch-meetings 
throughout the country, and greetings from prominent people 
were asked for, to be read on these occasions. This is what 
Mark Twain wrote : "I bring you the stately matron named 
Christendom, returning bedraggled, besmirched and dishon- 
ored from pirate raid in Kiao-Chow, ^Manchuria. South 
Africa and the Philippines, with her soul full of meanness, 
her pocket full of boodle and her mouth full of pious hypocri- 
sies. Give her soap and a towel, but hide thelooking-glass. — 
From The Citi::cn.] 

A STATELY matron, see her come, 

To greet the century new. 
Her garments white in sorry pHght, 

All stained with crimson hue; 
Her sandals gold that shone of old. 

Now fonl A\ith many a smear. 
From foot to crown, all up and down 

Besprinkled here and there. 

AA'hat ails that hrow, so regal once. 

So pure and chaste of yore? 
The matted ringlets now are clogged 

Alas! with human gore, 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The hands, so free to .q'ive and serve, 
Are liardened now with gold; 

The face, once fair, an angel there 
Could scarcely g'ood behold. 

Where has she been, the stately (|ueen, 

Since love hrst gaxe her birth? 
Afar and near, with i)it}-ing ear. 

To Corners of the earth; 
And just of late — oh! shameless fate I 

Her g"arnients in the dust 
The saint 1\- (jneen with regal mien 

Has stooped to gold and Inst. 

For power and place a goodly race 

She runs with other kings. 
Tramples to earth with savage mirth 

A score of better things. 
Come! Give her ])lace! This Christendom 

The Sa\ionr never knew; 
\\'ith all her stain, she may again 

Her ])nrity renew. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



71 



The Building of Zion. 

W'f. read in tlie P)il)le story 
Of Solonion's temple fair, 

Ikiilt to Jehovah's glory — 

No sound of the hammer there; 

But far from the place of building- 
Each beautiful piece was wrought. 

The stone, and the wood, and the gildin^. 
And then to the temple brouglit. 

I'^'om the splendor of early morning 
The echoless work went on. 

Till twilight's lengthened warning- 
Told that the day was gone ; 

Slowl}' and surely the temple grew 
Into its beautiful whole, 

And none of its sacred precincts knew 
The sound of the workman's tool. 

And now in the land of peace untold 

A city's walls appear, 
Grander than Solomon's fane of old — 

Beyond all knowledge fair: 



72 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



They are building- the houses of poHshed stone. 

Of beaten gold the ways, 
And all through the width of its wondrous zone 

Sparkle the jewel's rays. 

Somewhere in the heart of the world below. 

In the midst of its ceaseless din. 
Surrounded by wickedness and woe. 

By suffering and by sin. 
Beautiful stones are being prepared. 

With patient labor and skill. 
No toil is grudged and no pain is spared 

For the niche that they have to fill. 

There, in the hospital's sunny ward. 

The couch of pain upon, 
Where labor and skill again are stored. 

The silent work goes on ; 
Beautiful rubies are brought to view. 

And pearls that are chaste and fair. 
By keenest pain that the worker knew, 

By days and nights of care. 

Far out in the wilds of heathen lands 
Low is the timber laid, 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



73 



By workers wlio toil with patient hands 
And faith that is undismayed: 

Somewhere in the C(nnitry's stihest hfe, 
By Nature's sheeny fold, 

Where earth seems free of care and strife, 
They are working the beaten gold. 

And ever and always, day by day, 

The beautiful work goes on ; 
Tlie builder moveth the blocks away 

That his seal is set upon : 
Jewels and gold, iron and stone, 

Meet for the City Fair — 
Wonderful truth — each one alone 

The gem of his soul must prepare. 



74 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Men of Caister. 

[An incident of the sea that occurred November 14, 1901, 
off the coast of Norfolk. England. At the news of this 
disaster, England contributed twelve thousand five hundred 
pounds for the widows and orphans, and the nine brave men 
rest in one grave by the village church, where a beautiful 
memorial window has been placed.] 

Snl'G in tlieir beds the}' lay that night, l^rave men. 

one and ah ; 
T\vel\'e strong men of tlie hfe-l)nat crew, ready at 

(Uit}-'s cah, 
To "np and awa}'" if need l)e. to 1)reast the wind 

and the ^^■a\■e. 
In daring- effort, though futile, the haples^'. lost to 

save. 

Fair glows the snnshine 

On Caister beach to-da}'. 
\\ hile the cruel ocean 

Ripples in its play. 

Grim and silent and ominous hangeth the warning 

bell, 
Many a time it has startled the hamlet fair with its 

knell, 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



75 



Many a time it has clashed, over the waters wide, 
Calling men to their places, whatever may hetide. 

Turn in your beds. () seamen! what meaneth the 

wife's low prayer? 
The children are sleeping soundly — who heedeth 

the mother's fear? 
I^ist. (th! list to the temi)est and the dash of the 

treacherous wave ; 
God pity the mariner out to-night — pity, and hear. 

and save. 

Brightly glows the sunshine 
On Caister beach at morn. 

Alas! what brings the ocean, 
Rudely, swiftly l)orne? 

Did ye not hear it, mother — the l)ell and the boom- 
ing gun ? 

Another ship on the Berber sands her last long 
course has run ; 

Hasten, oh! hasten, seamen, hurrying down to the 
beach ; 

Maybe the Lord will have mercy — hark to the 
tempest's screech ! 



76 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



"Pull again, my hearties ! We must launch her 

safely now'' ■ — • 
The men are soaked by the freezing spray, tho' 

wet with sweat the brow ; 
Two long hours a-battling with the wind and the 

wave that night. 
Ere the boat was out on the water, with her oars 

and crew all right. 

Yet brightly glows the sunshine 
On Caister beach to-day. 

While ship and wave and fishing boat 
Pass gaily on their way. 

"A long pull and a strong pull! Ye! ho! for the 

heaving sea ! 
"Steady, my lads," and ''steady — the light on the 

doomed ship see." 
At length they reached the vessel; no living soul 

was there — 
Some other hands had saved them — so home, for 

the way is clear. 

A long pull and a strong pull. O anxious hearts 

ashore. 
Bitter the sting of the blinding spray — ye cannot 

see them more. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. yy 



Never a cry o'er the water ! — a wave and the boat 

was gone — 
1 ler keel to tlic lashing tempest — -the twelve strong 

men upon. 

Dive if ye can, O seamen, out from your well kn(jwn 

tomb, 
Fighting for life in the water, breasting the inky 

gloom ; 
Three out of twelve are landed; drag them in from 

the brine — 
Look out ! look out. O mothers — mothers and 

wives — for the nine ! 

Sparkles clear the ocean 

O'er Caister beach to-day. 
One wide grave must hold them 



Till the judgment day. 



78 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



What Matters? 

What matters all this pomp and pride, 

These gX)rgeoiis pageants and display? 
Beside the man who nobly died 

'Tis Init the mist of yesterda}'. 
One li\es ni)()n the hearts of men 

In golden letters graven deep. 
The other sinks beyond earth's ken 

Into oblivion's fitting sleep. 

The wealth that dares to flannt its shame. 

And stir its \n[s of reeking Inst, 
Beside the awfnl doom of flame. 

Before the nation's honored dnst. 
Shall meet at length its jnst reward — 

Has met it in the ages past, 
\\'hen Gallic mob and heathen horde 

Spread desolation wide and wist. 

The man who sweats to earn his bread. 
And eats it with a thankful heart. 

Though coarse of garb and rough of tread, 
Playeth still a nobler part 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 

Tlian he who milhons may control, 
Vet ne^•e^ sto()j)e(l to earn a cent, 

With carnal ])leasure for his i^oal. 
Solely on sin and folly hent. 

The woman who, with modest eye, 

And heart attnned to purest worth, 
Tho' be her station low or high. 

Of sovereign or of peasant birth, 
W'eareth a crown gold cannot buy, 

Neither can rank bestow, 
Whose beauty cannot fade or die, 

Nor time nor change can know. 

God's mercy on the land that holds 

A million names of wealth and pride. 
Heedless of him who builds and moulds, 

Whom men have named "The Crucified. 
Before His ])ity bending low. 

Let saint and sinner humbly prav. 
Ere rich and poor alike shall know 

The doom of nations passed away. 



79 



8o THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Sweetest rhing on Earth, 

He stays with us. He made his home 

With us some time ago; 
We know not if our ways are best 

For him, and yet we do — 
Or try to, all that in us lies, 

To ease the untried way 
That his small feet must travel o'er, 

If he should with us stay. 

His ways are not like ours. He seems 

A being from above, 
So full of life and joy is he. 

Of happiness and love. 
And we ? — We sometimes pause to play 

A merry game with him, 
Until we stop and run away — 

Our eyes grown strangely dim. 

He cannot talk. He says some things 

We fail to understand; 
They may be memories from the shores 

Of some far better land. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. gl 

They soiiiul so sweet ! — we often list 

The notes that cunie and go, 
Like whisperings of a l)ir(l at play, 

Warl)ling to and fro. 

He may not stay so very long. 

His home is in the skies. 
And yet, when lie is sound asleep, 

And the fair hody lies 
As if the angel Death were near 

To hear the child away, 
\Vith earnest hearts and thankful soul. 

We bend our knees and pray; 

Not for his life: 'tis his, to keep 

As God hath to him given, 
But for all strength and patience that 

Our ways may tend to heaven ; 
And when we see the roguish smile 

He greets us with at morn. 
We feel as if the world to us 

Were very like new born. 

And all day long that radiant joy 
Abideth with us still, 



82 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



That God has thong-ht so much of us 

This rare thing to fulfill ; 
So wonder you our cup is full 

Unto the very brim, 
And, "sweetest thing on earth," we pledge 

Our lives to work for him. 



Encouragement. 

Be strong, faint heart: for strength is born of 
trouble ; 

And all these rocks and pitfalls by the way, 
And stony hillsides, will repay thee double. 

In strength and patience, at a future day. 

Be strong, faint heart : nor falter at the dim 
And dark recesses that lie right ahead : 

Bank on thy courage. Ere the vesper hymn 
Thou shalt acknowledge 'twas divinely led. 

Be strong, faint heart. What though the world apart 
Holds thee a stranger and an alien here ! 

Ere long thou shalt stand surely heart to heart 
^Vith kindred souls who hold thv valor dear. 



■THE FIRST SHEARING. g. 



To Whom it may Concern. 

Mave (lone, have done! Enough of care and worry ! 

Enough of all this striving after self; 
More than enough of all this stir and hurry, 

Of ceaseless reaching after place and pelf. 



Let us go back, with step serene and stately, 
Unto the guerdons our forefathers culled — 

That we have lost our hold of, somehow, lately. 
By stress of living or by care annulled. 

Let us take time for all the tender graces 
That glow with benison in holy writ, 

And oftener turn our feet to sacred places. 

Where priest and prophet in their wisdom sit. 

\\q shall gain more of what life has to give us, 
If we can pause and listen by the way. 

To all the voices by us that outlive us — 

So much, to souls attuned, they have to say. 



84 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Let us remenil)er, "ere the past can blij^iit us, 
With all its Intterness of stern array. 

That there arc hcauties l>'ing closely l)y us. 
Alimi;- the cnnnnun pathway of to-day. 

What is more fi'nilfui than a friendshi]) tried, 
And tested till it stands apart from all — 

Unto no time or distance e\er tied — 
That nex'cr can dishearten, trifle, pall? 

\Vhat is more heautiful than lo\e so tender 
Of mother and of child, father and st)n; 

And the rare reverence that love can render. 
Ere the great change that draws to ex'ery one' 

There is a Friendship that surpasses life. 

Each heart can take unto itself that will; 

That li\-es above our petty cares and strife, 
And all the soul's deep yearning can fulfill. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 85 



Lenten Verse. 

When eventide is stealing down 
O'er country-side and l)nsy town; 
When daylight lingers in the west, 
With sky in sunset raiment drest, 
O gentle Saviour, bending low. 
The frailties <)f thy In'others know. 

As thou didst wear in days gone by, 
The form of man 'neath Judea's sky, 
Didst pass along life's dusty road. 
Burdened with more than mortal load, 
Didst toil and suffer, needing rest, 
Footsore and weary and oppressed. 

As thou didst bear the sins of all. 
And drink the cup of l)itterest gall; 
Didst tread the awful gulf alone. 
No light e'en from thy Father's throne. 
Thy human life a ransom given 
For every sinner under heaven. 



86 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Thus, Saviour, at the close of day, 

When sins and fraiUies on us lay, 

\W bring- our burden great to thee, 

Belie\"ing thou canst set us free; 

And pleading through thy wondrous love. 

A portion of thy peace above. 



Words. 

Sometimes I wonder if the tongues that wound, 
With words as cruel as a surgeon's knife, 

Could only taste the bitterness they give. 
How sweeter far would be our daily life. 

\\^)rds are such little things! and yet they tend 
To make or mar the joy of every day; 

And somewhere, it is said, towards the end 

We shall be iustit'ied <»r damned ]^\ what we sav ! 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



87 



To an Old Lady. 



What have you done in all your life behind you, 
That thus you should be slighted every day? 

When all the scanty links that here must bind yuu, 
Are slipping, and have slipped so swift away? 

You are so like a child, yet more than child, 
With adolescence of the years to be, 

And eyes that look so way-worn and so mild — 
My heart goes out to dear ones such as thee. 

For I shall come, if God will honor me 

With length of years to learn my lesson in. 

Unto thy stage of beauty, passing free 

From much of earth's old raiment, misnamed sin. 

And I shall learn, as thou hast learnt so well. 

The great life lesson that so few can get. 
Of the diviner being as we dwell 

Above our losses and our care and fret : 



88 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



That g"i\es a wondrous l)eauty in tlie light, 
Shining' frdni faded eyes so soft to-day, 

Crowning" as with a sun-crown burnished l)rig"ht. 
Those liours tliat ])ass so swiftly now away. 

It is the halo of a life well spent. 

Of ]~)ra}-er and praise and good deeds softly done 
A beaut}- fi-om the coming day dawn, lent 

Just for a season, of the life begun. 



Not Death. 

This is not death! — this sleep that fell tu-day, 
Sweei)ing all traces of earth's mar away: 
Stilling the weary heart, the restless brain. 
That beat and throbl)ed so long" in one refrain; 
Closing the tired e}es, easing the frame. 
Call it not Death! Jt is too harsh a name. 
But rather Sleep — sleep for the raiment here. 
And for the deathless soul new birth (/er there — 
ddiere, where the colors brighten of the day. 
And a faint streak of dawning comes this way 



rilR FIRST SHll.lRING. 



89 



Patience and Strength. 

Let us lia\-e i)atience for the little feet 

That are so small, they falter every day; 

(3ften our own will stumhle, and we fail 

To kee[) at times the straight and narrow way. 

And as the tiny hands that strixe so much 
To serve us, in their stri\'ing' oft undo, 

It may he that the I'^ather of us all 

Finds our liest efforts futile as we go. 

Let us have patience for the little hearts 

That love so much; their loving makes them 
mar 

The blessings that they bring ! Would we were free 
From guile aforethought, even as they are. 

.And inv the minds that open as, at morn, 
A bud will open to the Ijeauteous light; 

Knowing as little of the day before. 

And seeing but the glad earth smili'ng bright. 



90 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



And strength we need to guide and guard and hold, 
These priceless jewels to our keeping given; 

Where shall we find it? On our knees alone, 
Just for the asking, a good gift from heaven. 

Not strength of mind or heart or soul alone. 

But strength of body — a pure will enshrined 

In a garb free from every earthly ill — 
Vigor fourfold, most happily combined. 



The Birds. 

The birds were man's first neighbors. I have stood 
At earliest dawning in a quiet wood. 
And listened with a glad and rapt surprise 
Unto an anthem that awoke the skies. 

At first a twittering, wondrous faint and sweet. 
As if each voice feared almost to rejieat 
The mek)dy so low; and then again. 
Until the air pulsated with the strain. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



91 



Toleration. 

To Jas. E. Norton, Esq. 

I LIKE this toleration, 

This word of meaning vast; 
'Twill hold its own and flourish 

When other words have passed; 
It means so much of kindness 

To human kith and kin, 
So much of generous blindness, 

Where others see hnt sin. 

The smoothing of hard places 

Where feet are fain to fall ; 
The polishing of graces 

Where grime lies over all. 
The sifting of the finer dust 

Of human thought and deed. 
The gentle "may" in place of "must 

The thnught for other's need. 

God grant us in his bounty 

A sinecure of this. 
To ease the old earth's burden. 

To speed the day of bliss; 



92 



Tim FIRST SHIi.lRIXG. 



To teach the coming- races, 
As kingdoms rise and fall. 

That grander than earth's places 
Lo\e reiiiiietli o\er all. 



A Lost Love. 

AIax monrns a1)o\e tlie mighty dead, 

And woman, o'er the hier. 
With hitter sighs and l)en(led head 

Sheddeth tlie scalding tear; 
lUit who shall tell when angels weej). 

What cruel grief must flow 
I'^rom woman's l)reast and man's strong lieart. 

When loxe is dead below? 

Oh! ye to whom on earth is given 

A friendship strong and true. 
Remember oft that under heaven 

The priceless comes to you: 
How dread the day must be when love, 

Awhile by angels fanned. 
Must drtip apart, a broken thing. 

Despised, and barred, and l)anned. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. q. 



Lines on the Receipt of a Nurse's 
Photograph. 

A STRONG sweet face of womanhood mature, 

With eyes downcast to match the modest mien. 

And hair surmounted Ijy the neatest cap 
That e\'er tried to Iiide its glossy sheen. 

A snow-wliitc kercliief. meeting at the l)reast, 

An apron white, and wide from side to hem, 
A slender form in simple raiment drest, 
' And that small cap a sovereign's diadem! 

A strong and supple, yet a slender hand. 

Well trained in all a nurse's tender skill ; 
With feet that lightly hasten at command, 

And when (juiescent can be wholly still. 

A heart compassionate for others' pain. 
Vet holds emotion as an afterthought ; 

i\nd labors not alone for selfish gain ; 

A mind well poised and Imt in part self-taught. 



94 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A happy soul that has not dipt its wings 
To grovel in the clinging sands of earth ; 

But while in duty wrapped in mundane things, 
Gilds them ^\■ith glamor of its glorious l)irth. 



A white Da 



y- 



A DAY on which no conscious sin 

Has set its withering blight, 
Nor foe without, nor strife within. 

From dawning until night : 
A day with honest lalxjr filled. 

And time to rest, or turn 
From grave to gay; and, if so willed 

Some lesson rare to learn. 

A chance to lift a weary heart. 

Where sin and sorrow meet. 
To move the tangles wide apart 

About some little feet ; 
To lay a salve of kindness on 

A wound that else were sore: 
To love. and. loving, smile upon 

The dear ones so much more. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



95 



A New Country. 

I AM coming to my kingxlom, 

Step by step, and every day; 
Such a g-Iad and glorious country, 

Brightening all the uphill way : 
Every untold deed of kindness. 

Every word of meaning fair. 
E\-ery thought of holy beautv. 

Brings me nearer and more near 

You are coming to your kingdom — 

Such a land of pure delight, 
That you wake and think about it, 

In the wee sma' hours of night ; 
Such a country, pure and healthy. 

Where the golden moments flow, 
And the soul has full control 

Of our happiness below. 

She is coming to her kingdom. 
By the swift and gentle tread, 

By the touch so softly helpful. 
By the speech so oft unsaid. 



96 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



\\'<iiil(l \()ii know this wondrous country 
Where all hard contentions cease? 

One who sayeth nothing" vainly 

Long ago has named it — Peace. 



Prosperity. 



Fine is he who can hold his head 

When the waves of trouhle roll. 
A victor o'er the vanquished led, 

A pure undaunted soul. 
\\ hen, hending like a mighty tree, 

Before the strengthening hlast, 
Serene he standetli, true and free. 

Though shattered at the last. 

But hner still, and yet UKjre rare. 

The luan ^^■ho kec])s his head, 
Wdien all of life is gay and fair. 

By jo}' and wealth hestead : 
\\'hy ! he is like a soldier bold. 

W'ho stands within the fray, 
\\\\h gri]) obeying, iron hold, 

^'et never fights that day. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. (^y 



Words of Cheer. 

Courage, faint lieart ! the path may seem to thee — 
To thy weak footsteps, stnmbHng every day — 

Rough as the roughest, hardest yet to be; 

But Faith and Hope discern the safer way. 

Courage, faint heart ! — and courage yet again ! 

The Ruler of the universe can lend 
Thee strength and patience, and thou mayst attain 

To peace and blessing that shall know no end. 

Think for a moment. All the trees that grow 
Upon the sunny slopes can never make 

The strong, tough timbers that the builders know 
Have felt the northern l)last, the ice-king's cjuake. 

Then turn thee t(^ the storm with kindling eye. 
Thankful thou art upon the northern side; 

Able to prove that truth can never die, 

With trust in Heaven, thy unfailing guide! 



t)8 '/ViZr FIF^ST SHEARING. 



Faithless Work. 

We read of the terrible mishap — 

The wreck of a passenger train; 
A vessel sunk in mid-ocean — 

Horrors of death and pain; 
A dam that broke and o'ertiooded 

The valley, smiling- and fair, 
And hurried to death's destruction 

Thousands of people there. 

The wreck on the rail and the ocean, 

The ruin in the vale once fair, 
Exhibit brave human devotion, 

"Mid fright, and death, and despair; 
But the cruel fire and the merciless wave 

Have no pity for human pain, 
And we wonder that Providence could, 

To avert the disaster, refrain. 

A workman at toil in the foundry. 
Where the molten iron is hot. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



99 



In spite of the test and the danger, 

Misses a httle spot; 
The dam that was l)uih so strong-ly 

Has only an inch that's weak — 
Ah ! bnt in world-heard disaster, 

Faithless work wih speak ! 



ToA. M. C. 

Bird of passage, whence away? 
What has come to you to-day? 
Smiles and words and laughter, quite 
Beyond my own poor mortal sight. 

Bird of passage, whither bound? 
Tell me now what treasure found? 
What surcease has come to you — 
Something grand, and good, and new? 

Bird of passage, tell me why 
Always shines your widening sky? 
How you gather on the wing- 
Sweets and joy from everything? 



L.ofC. 



100 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Right Kind of Boy. 

It was upon the railroad a sultry summer's day, 
The cars were hot and cr()\\(le(l, and weary was the 

way. 
And I grew tired of watching the scen'r}- flitting Ijy. 
When there, some seats ahead of me. a something 

caught ni}' eye. 

A tall, strong youth was l)ending aljove a little head. 
And smiling as he whisper'd — 'twas something 

sweet he said ; 
I could not see the lady's face — I knew it must he 

fair, 
I pictur'd it most lo\'el}' — they were a l)ridal pair. 

The down was on his upper li|), the curling chestnut 

hair. 
The sweet protecting tenderness in which he hover'd 

there. 
And she so still and nestling, as though the world 

held naught, 
Jkwond her proud companion, as worthy of a 

thought. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. lOi 

And so I leaned l)ack in my seat and watched the 

happy pair, 
And speculated on their lot, whence were they hound 

and where? 
What would the future hring for them? How much 

of ])ain or joy? 
And what their first? — a rosy girl, or hap, a hounc- 

ing- hoy? 

And my past love came l)ack to me, that long- had 

taken wings. 
And more than once that summer day, T hlessed the 

s\\eet young things. 
He was an ideal hridegroom, stranger to sin and 

care, 
And she a dove of gentleness, so fondly nestling 

there. 

He brought her ice-cold water, oranges and books, 

And pointed out, I really thought, the most love- 
shaded nooks. 

But never did I catch a glimpse of her bewitching 
face ; 

I only saw the bonnet neat worn with such modest 
grace. 



I02 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

At leng-th I reached my journey's end and 'mid the 

cr(_)\vd outside, 
1 gained a post of vantage to see this fair voung 

bride, 
I saw his head al)ove tliem all, and slowly walked 

he by. 
And as I mark'd the lady's face, a something- dimm'd 

my eye. 

A sweet, sweet face, indeed, it was — her hand was 

on his arm. 
But youth, and }-outh's fresh beauty were not its 

fadeless charm, 
"(iod bless that l)oy!" I whispered, "unto his dying 

day !" 
Her face was fair with mother's i)ride, an! lo ! her 

hair was grey ! 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 103 



Sister Jackson's Prayer. 

It was a colored meeting', where the brethren 

groaned in prayer. 
And the air was odorous with the many perfumes 

there, 
For the dusky maidens thronging brought their 

beaux in starch bedight. 
And the colors of their headgear made a strange and 

fearsome sight. 

Long I looked upon the throng, the meeting crowded 

to the walls. 
While the stifling air resounded with the groans, and 

sobs, and calls ; 
Many faces bore a sembLance — let us say grotesque 

to me — 
While the white hair of the elders was a passing 

sight to see. 

There were figures bent wdth labor, aunties with 

their turbans gay. 
And their hands all hard and knotty, telling of the 

rocky way 



I04 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Those old souls had trod to glory — now and then 

one lifts a prayer. 
As I stood and waited vainly for the light of reason 

there. 

Shouts, and groans, and benedictions, rose and fell 
in ceaseless strain ; 

"Glory! Glory! Lord have mercy!" cried the 
preacher o'er again. 

Then a hush of wondrous silence lav u])on the meet- 
ing dim, 

And I listened for the singing of some old revival 
hymn. 

But a cracked voice, weak and trembling, drew unto 

the mercy seat, 
And the words came fast and tumbling, like a wild 

do\\npour of sleet ; 
Metaphors and similes many, prayers and thanks for 

mercy found. 
Finishing with "Lord Almighty, place our feet on 

higher ground." 

Such a prayer, and such an ending! — passed I out 

into the nig-ht, 
Where the clouds were hurrying swiftly — mists 

had long obscured my sight — 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



105 



Such a prayer and such an enchng! — many times 

myself I found 
Saying- o'er and o'er, "Ahnig-hty, i)lace our feet on 

liighcr ground." 



Enough. 



A KINGLY portion is enough, 

\Miatever it may be, 
The simplest fare on tal)le rough, 

Of root or herb or tree. 

The richest viands can but i)all, 
Though served on silverware. 

And God has given alike to all 
His widest bounty here. 

And he who takes the very least. 
And lets contentment shine, 

'Tis better than a royal feast 

Washed down with ruby wine. 

So let the better pass us by 
On life's absorbing tide. 

If we have but this grand enough 
And not one cent beside. 



Io6 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Sorrowful Star. 

Suggested by Marie Corei.li's "Romance of Two Worlds. 

Far-flung in the depth of space it hes, 
The tiniest speck to celestial eyes ; 
Yet ever upon its melting" snows 
The blessed light of the universe glows. 

Thousands of ceons have passed away 
Since the light awakened its natal day; 
Thousands of ?eons yet may be 
Ere the end will come in eternity. 

But a mist lies over this wayward star. 
Till even the angels gaze afar, 
And wonder, if ever the light will be 
More radiant still that they may see : 

May see the wherefore of errors wide. 
That darken it oft like a flooding tide; 
May understand why the Master's will 
Is never enough the whole to fill. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. joy 



But ever and always the sad star sways — 
Darkness its nigiit and blackness its days ; 
And ever and always the angels come 
With hands that are Inisy and lips that are dumb. 

They sigh over wastes where the mortals bow 
To the gods that they make — so vigorous now — 
They weep over deserts where life-blood runs. 
Folding- their wings to a myriad suns. 

For why? There are gardens where love has lent 
Its richest and best in the firmament ; 
\Vhere holier beings work and learn 
Of life's unknown and of life's return. 

Just a little while in the time passed by. 
For they count not years in the upper sky — 
One came from the land where the light is shed. 
Exchanging His birthright for earthly bread. 

And so it is that the sorrowful star 

Still glows in the light as it sways afar: 

And the still ones bend with their healing touch — 

Sorrowing often, yet loving much. 



Io8 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Rain in the Street. 

TiiJ': (lust lies thick where weary horses tread; 
The few shy dogs droop a be-collared head; 
'1 he sparrows chatter as they always do ; 
.\iid chickens gape as if in stress of woe! 
The small boy raises sand in a donl)le sense. 
And if in curls — oh ! come, let us go hence. 

A l)reeze, a wind, a cloud of clouds o'er all. 
And a low murmur — heaxy drops that fall ; 
The horses sniff the air. the chickens run 
Swiftly to shelter — and the fun's begun — 
Come, hustle in the goods, languor is past. 
Here's rain, and rain in plenty, at the last. 

You cannot hold the boy — you need not try — 
He, like the horses, smells the rain cloud nigh ; 
What joy to tear — no other word will do — 
Adown the pattering rain; yell as you go! 
The rain has come in plenty, gardens lay 
Weighted with moisture on this blessed day. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



109 



A Word for the Sparrow. 

See the little Engiish sparrow, 

With his coat of brown and grey ; 
He's a fussy little fellow, 

Chattering- the li\'el()ng clay. 
While the housewife lifts in horror 

Hands that wield the patient broom 
Nothing cares he for the litter 

As he Ijuilds his cosv home. 

Mark the little English sparrow, 

With his chatter all the day. 
Lonely was the land and dreary 

Ere they brought him out this way; 
Never houses decked the landscape, 

Schools and temples — not a one — 
Lonely was the land and dreary 

Ere his litter was begun. 

Oh! the little Engiish sparrow 
Crossing o'er the waters l)lue; 

Daring was the hand that brought him. 
Nothing of his future knew: 



no THE FIRST SHEARING. 

How he must have cheered the settler 
Coming from old England's shore ! 

See the busy little fellow 

Fussing, fighting on before. 

Oh! the naughty English sparrow, 

See him build his nest so high 
In the ivy on the churches 

'Neath the eaves so closely by : 
How I love the little fellow, 

With his cheery, homely ways; 
Coming to the very doorstep. 

Helping out the darkest days. 



Servia's New Dynasty. 

Founded in blood — what can the outcome be? 
History repeats itself; and we may see 
That human life, so taken, can but spread 
Woe to the li\ing — pity for the dead. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



tit 



A Lesson in Floods. 

Hew down the lordly forests, 

And lay the giants low; 
Root out the tangled undergrowth 

That all the world may know — 
What matters half a million 

Of human lives or so ? 
When mighty dollars can be made, 

Who cares for death and woe? 

Depopulate the forests 

Of every living thing. 
Note how they tremble when they hear 

The hard metallic ring, 
That tells them trees are falling 

With many a cherished home; 
When golden barter calleth 

Wdio heeds the cruel doom ? 

Denude the hills of timber. 

Lay bare the ice-cold spring. 

Girdle the water-course with stumps 
And see what greed must bring — 



112 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Flood after flood uprooting; 

What man has held so dear 
The awful penalty of sin, 

Disaster far and near. 



A Saving Grace. 



There's a grace that's very common, 

And yet 'tis wondrous wise, 
Bestowed on happy mortals 

In many a wayward guise ; 
It easeth heavy burdens, 

And lifts the load of care. 
And sheds on darkest i)laces 

A g-olden beam of cheer. 

'Tis far remo\-ed from error 

As earth from sky above; 
Indeed, I think 'twas lent us 

In very wisest lo\e; 
And woe betide the mortal 

Who ])asses on his wav 
Without this grace of humor 

To ease the busv dav. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



113 



Vote as You Pra 



J' 



"Thy kingdom come!" — across the years, 

With all their weight of blood and tears, 

With all their misery untold, 

The darkness and the bitter cold, 

These creatures of thy name and birth 

Have prayed, "Thy kingdom come on earth." 

With prayer on lip and hand on sword. 
With ball and gun and scathing word. 
Across the wakening world to-day 
They fight and scorn, they kneel and pray, 
"Thy kingdom come !" - — ■ Oh ! prayer divine, 
The travesty of man is thine. 

"Thy kingdom come" — where Jesus reigns 

And the dread cross his weight sustains ; 

Where Christians throng the ways to prayer. 

The bitterness of death is there, 

And Satan laughs with honest mirth 

To see his agents rule the earth ! 
8 



114 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Sunshine and Shadow. 

Sunshine and sha(lt)\v 'mid prinie\al trees — 
A soothing murniur of sweet whisperings, 

As if ah Nature drew her wealth to these — 
Her dearest and her best of growing things. 

Sunshine and shadow in the woods to-day, 

And in my heart the shadow — yours the shine; 

To-morrow it may 1)e you bear the grey, 
And all the l)eauty of the hour be mine. 

Sunshine and shadow in the woods at morn, 
A beauty past the telling — to be seen- — 

Of all things pure and radiant, meekly borne, 
And wonders in the glimpses cast between. 

Sunshine and shadow in the woods at noon — 
Ah ! here, indeed, has earth and heaven met ; 

Such flickering shadow ! it were scarce a boon, 
To meet fulfilment of its welfare yet. 

Sunshine and shadow in the woods at eve — 

Be still, my soul, and drink earth's beauty in — 

How blest a Ijeauty it is to believe 

Earth holds so much apart from woe and sin. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. jjc 



The Land of Make-Believe. 

Come with me on a trip to-day 

In the gay old Punman of thought; 
The world holds never a richer way 

By money or life-blood bought; 
Never a stain on the beautiful plain 

You see through the arching trees, 
And never a moan or a pitiful groan 

Borne on the balmy breeze. 

Dispense with all traps, all lunches and wraps, 

For the people you meet on the way 
Will be more than glad, for they never are sad. 

To furnish you free of pay : 
Jolly and free will these strange folk be, 

Of care and worry bereft, 
And all the time, in the happiest rhyme, 

Sunshine right and left. 

You never will know that the cold winds blow, 

For all will be cheery there. 
And the Ijlessed shade in the quiet glade 

W'\]\ stay with you everywhere; 



Il6 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



And thoughts, Hke flowers, will brighten the 
hours 

Through many a happy day, 
For thoughts are life, and with wisdom rife, 

Must always with us stay. 



To E. R. B. 

My brown-eyed beauty, sweet and fair, 

A birthday wish for you. 
While hopes are l)right and skies are clear 

y\nd all things fair and new. 

A happy heart, a heli)ing hand, 
\\diile joyous youth shall last; 

And, better still, a firmer stand 

When youth's glad day has passed. 

For this, dear girl, you learn to-day, 

To-morrow you shall find. 
The best of learning on your way, 

Is to be true and kind. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



iiy 



Next to Nothing. 

Jlt.st a little friendship 

All along- the way, 
Just a little cheering 

On a cloudy day. 

Just a little kindness, 

When the heart is sf)re, 

How it lights the pathway, 
Darkening on before! 

Just a few excuses 

When we fail to find 
Friend or kin or neighbor 

Always to our mind. 

Just a little blindness 

\\'hen the children play — 
'Tis something more than kindness 

Every common day. 



Il8 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A Universal Prayer. 

For all w ho near thy throne to-day, 
The glad, indifferent, and gay, 
The votaries of pleasure's sway — 
Thy mercy, Lord. 



By flood and accident and fire, 
By evils of the world's desire, 
By lust and greed and demon's ire — 
Thy mercy. Lord. 

The fickle-minded and the graxe. 
Approaching Thee \)y wind and wa\e. 
By storm-clad terror, yawning grave - 
Thy mercy, Lord. 

The children playing in the sun, 
The hardened sinners; every one. 
Whose life within the day is done — • 
Thy mercy, Lord. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



119 



The women fair who sit at ease, 
The iiK^thers striving" hard to please, 
The men wlio gi\e their toil for these — 
Thy mercy, Lord. 

For all the blood-hought souls who stray 
By varied ways to thee to-day, 
Bend low thy soothing- power, we pray — 
Thy mercy, Lord. 



To the St. Barnabas Guild of 
Nurses. 

Daughters of consolation, ye hold a place to-day, 
Unique in power and beauty upon the widening 

^^"ay ; 
The voice of prophecy has bent its echoing- note o'er 

you; 
Heaven grant you strength unto your trust to be 

forever true. 



I20 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Editor. 

I SOUGHT the editor in his den, 
With many a trembling fear, 

"A perfect poem is a feast," I said. 
And the hasli yon serve np here — 

Syntax and reason are quite dethroned, 
Rhythm and rh3mie are gone, 

And I with shame distracted — 
"Not a foot to stand upon !" 

I found him a gentle-mannered man, 
With even a kink to his hair; 

But my voice was sad and its tones were low 
And I had a right to swear ! 

The editor looked at his pen a while. 
And he heaved a dolorous sigh. 

"I cannot help it at all," he said. 
"For 'the devil' mixed the pi." 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 121 



The Spirit of the Hills. 

There breathes a spirit from the mighty h.ills, 
That rear their bosoms to the arching sky. 

That stirs, and throbs, and palpitates and thrills, 
And lifts a note, like angel's voice on high. 

Earth will not heed it, for the race of men 
Is noisy, clamorous for the world's unrest ; 

And so beyond, above our mortal ken. 
It makes its habitation with the blest. 

Yet some there are, pure, gentle hearts and mild. 

To whom it breathes a benison most sweet : 
The hard world's victim and strong Nature's child, 

Who turn to list with not unwilling feet. 

To such, and such alone, a low. sweet voice 
Bids us be patient, for the best is near. 

And tells us in our patience to rejoice. 

For earth has much of good-will and of cheer. 



122 'riil'^ FIRST SHEARING. 



Of kindness deep to all within our ken, 

For many hearts are burdened by the way, 

And many break and die, or fall, and then, 

More h()])eless still, when lost and gone astray. 

The Spirit of the Hills is l)i)un(lless love, 

To friend and foe. from God to mankind given, 

d'liat yet shall mountains of men's raising move, 
And make our earth an Eden nearer heaven. 

Pray thou for this. All other things put by, 
And life for thee shall be a passage sweet — 

\\'hate\'er storms assail the haven nigh — - 

A Ijlessed welcome thv faint heart shall greet. 



Education. 

Education is to the man what the fallow ground 

is to the grain ; 
And to the woman it means release from sorrr)w 

and pain. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 123 



The Building of a Home, 

I WATCHED a wee bird build a nest 

Upon a swaying Hmb; 
'Twas far beyond the robljer's quest, 

In leafy covert dim. 

She chose the spot with wondrous care, 

She eyed it in and out; 
She flew around, now here, now there. 

Alcove and all about. 

At length she rested, satisfied. 
Then called her mate to view, 

And there they nestled side by side, 
As lovers fond and true. 

They wasted not a summer hour 
Ere downward did they fly. 

And to the utmost of their power 
They searched both low and high. 



124 -^^^ FIRST SHEARING. 



They took some rootlets, long and fine, 
And slyly stole some thread, 

Some horsehair, feathers and some twine 
To build that home o'erhead. 

A little moss, all clean and dry. 

They gathered at the last ; 
No eye could see, it was so high. 

What mould that home was cast. 

It must have been a perfect nest 

When it was fully done ; 
And, by their labor, they could rest 

At welcome set of sun. 



What is Worth While. 

As we lose the fever and folly 

That men have miscalled youth. 

There is nothing that counts but goodness. 
And nothing worth telling but truth. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 125 



Driftwood. 

P^ROM the mighty forests; 'neath northern skies, 
Where the ghstening- pall of the snow-robe lies, 
Where the tall pines bend like a severed mast, 
Bend and snap 'fore the wintry blast, 
And into the eddy, into the stream, 
Carried away like a phantom dream. 

From the gardened isles of the sonthern land, 
From many a verdant vine-clad strand. 
Where the wealth of nature outlives the glow. 
That Sol may pour on his path below. 
And the kings of the forest rise and fall, 
Like the unmarked notes of a festival. 

Turning, twisting, twirling fast, 
On by swiftest currents passed, 
Some upon the dark rocks stranded. 
Some ashore all safely landed, 
Some are doomed to endless rest, 
Some to ocean's billowy breast. 



126 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



From the forest, down the river, 
Floating onward, floating ever, 
Out into the hnngry sea, 
Tossing ever carelessly — 
Surely it is human strife. 
Driftwood on the stream of life. 



Nearer Home. 

The breaking day and the noontide heat. 
Merge to the evening's gloom, 

And I say, as I lay me down to rest, 
"I'm one day nearer home!" 

The minutes fly and the hours run by. 

Swift as an arrow's fliglit. 
And I say, as I watch the iwinkling stars, 

'Tm nearer home to-night!" 

The days pass on and the weeks are gone, 
And the months make up the years; 

And the years are made of such little things, 
Of hopes and smiles and tears. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



127 



Rain in the Woods. 

A HUSH expectant lies o'er nature now, 
The leaves a-trenible whisper soft and low, 
And every little flower lifts up its head, 
As if it never failed — their daily bread. 

A gentle breeze, a very gentle breeze. 
Comes murmuring happily through all the trees 
Caressing, playing with familiar touch, 
Enjoying and enjoyed, and whispering much. 

Caressing gently, growing bolder still, 
Twigs bend and sway unto the breeze's will, 
Until the trees, a-quiver with the blast, 
Bow to a gale ungentle at the last. 

And lo ! a sweep of richly pattering rain, 
No stinted measure in its full refrain, 
Again, and yet again, they drink their fill — - 
All living things — till all with joy are still. 



128 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Johnny's Story. 

"My papa is a drunkard, 

My grandpa runs a bar, 
My mother takes in washing — 

And this is where we are: 
There's just a bite to eat at home, 

And mostly it's a crust, 
I wish we had a turkey-spread, — 

I'd eat until I bust. 

"The children never can be clothed, 

For mother's at the tul) — 
And from sun-ui) untill sundown 

It's \\ash and rinse and rul) : 
It's Johnny here, and Johnny there. 

And hurry, buy some soap, 
And tend the baby, big and small. 

Or else an eufl of rope ! 

"The money filters slowly by, 
And mother's wore and ill; 

I wonder why — for once uptown 
I peeped in grandpap's till ; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



129 



'Twas running" full (^f money, 
Quarters, dollars, dimes. 

I wish. I was a man — I'd let 

The women vote — sometimes !' 



To M. R. B. 

The heart that lives in living 
Lives for itself alone — 

Has sunk to slavery's lowest, 
Is harder than a stone. 

The life that lives in giving 
Has mounted to a throne, 

That glows with regal beauty, 
Often, alas! alone. 

Live on, oh ! true and tender. 
And strong as love can be. 

Till more than royal splendor. 
Some dav awaiteth thee. 



I30 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Qiiiet Day. 



This is the quiet clay. Alas! for me, 

No stillness lingers in the summer hours, 

No haunt of bee or bird, or symphony 

Of peace and rest, of trees and grass and flowers. 

This is the day that they have set apart 

For meditation and for thankful prayer, 

For all that brings them even heart to heart. 
With things that are, to love and persevere. 

The streams that break about us pass and turn, 
With all their eddying waves of care and strife, 

And by them, in them, if we will, we learn 
The mighty undercurrents of our life. 

This is the quiet day! And I can hold 

So near unto the Master as I go. 
That all my days are quiet — and behold, 

I did not know it could be ever so. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



131 



A Grain of Salt. 

]l;st a word in your ear, 

While the bus}^ old world goes Ijy, 
With a laugh and a tear, a hope and a fear, 

A smile, a frc^wn and a sigh — 
Just a word in your ear. 

Whatever it brings tc^ you. 
No matter whose fault, with a grain of salt. 

Season it ever new. 

One OMiies with a pitiful tale. 

Of want or sorrow or sin ; 
I fasten your grain — 'tis a terrible rain, 

Wdiere no ray of light creeps in : 
Never so dark the nightfall, 

Never so dull the day, 
But a seasoning fine, from your hidden mine 

Will chase the gloom away. 

If a taste of the bitter w^aters. 

That we all must sup through life, 

Cometh to you, in its horror new, 
Of grief, remorse, or strife: 



132 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Haste to your mine, and sprinkle fine, 
W'^ith a grain of salt- — -or sense; 

In the time to l)e. }-onr soul may see 

The whither, the whv, and the whence. 



Rock Ferns. 

Upon the beetling crag, 

\\diere foot hath never trod, 

^\'ith scarce a root to cheer them on, 
And not an inch of sod. 

In every njugh-hewn crevice, 
AA'here rarely mosses spring. 

On walls of adamantine rock, 
How faithfully they cling. 

Oh ! for a vigorous growth like this. 

The Rock of i\ges near. 
To cling as closely, spite of storm. 

Or every craAen fear. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



133 



The Beauty of Imperfection, 

A True Story. 

A SCULPTOR worked at a wondrous face, 
And gave to it more than human grace; 
lie patiently wnnight at the marble fine, 
And chiselled his soul on that face divine; 
And when it was finished, unsatisfied, 
Me fiung- the doors of his studio wide. 

Critic and friend (he was known to fame), 
One and all, and many, they came, 
On that Christ-like l)ro\v to pass decree — 
And the sculptor pondered what it would be - 
A blessed blame or a cruel praise, 
Leng-thening out or shortening days. 

Silently went as silently came ; 

They liad no words of praise or l)lame; 

But deep in the eyes of each one lay 

A reverence as they passed away, 

x'\nd a mistiness that was strange t(^ see — 

The sculptor wondered what it could be. 



134 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



He whispered a friend to stay behind, 
To tell him the truth and ease his mind. 
"What do }'(»u think of my work?" said he, 
As lie laid his hand on it tenderly, 
"This child of my later day and skill ; 
Tell me the truth, l)e it good or ill." 

And the other answered with modest mien, 
" 'Tis the finest art we have ever seen; 
You have done your l)est, and la\ished all 
Your o-ift on that face, and to recall. 
Or to regret, there is nothing there — 
It is perfectl}- i)ure, and great, and fair." 

The sculptor turned away with a sigh, 

And a tremulous moisture in his eye, 

Then spoke in a \'oice that was faint and low, 

"1 am of all men lost l)elow — 

If that is my best — for what." said he, 

"Is left in the realm of n^\ work for me?" 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 135 



The Word that's Left Unsaid. 

'Tis not the thought you speak, dear, 

That does so much in life 
To soothe the wretched heartache, 

To stay the ceaseless strife; 
To lift the weary burden. 

To ease the throbbing head — 
'Tis not the word you say, dear, 

But the word you leave unsaid. 

'Tis not the word that's spoken 

That tells where great hopes lie, 
Neither the thrilling utterance 

That speaks ambition nigh : 
Nor yet the whispered secret. 

Breathing of deeds ahead ; 
'Tis not the spoken word that tells, 

But the word that's left unsaid. 

'Tis not the thing you say, dear, 

Though honey-sweet it be, 
And weighted with affection. 

From all of envy free. 



136 1'HE FIRST SIIEARIXG. 

That tells where mighty love is crowned, 

The highest and the best, 
For words are weak where deeds alone 

Find only fitting rest. 



A Picture. 

She was a child, a gay and laughing child, 
And full of artless pranks — not running wild. 
But innocent as daylight — joyous, free. 
Just as a child well-born is meant to be, 
And rich in guileless humour ; eyes as 1)lue 
As heaven's own, weighted with dew 
Of adolescence ; Ijrow as clear and wide 
As some fair sail breasting a rising tide ; 
A peach-bloom cheek, and rounded dimpled chin 
A rosebud mouth, close hiding pearls within; 
A form of strength and beauty; rounded limb, 
Bounding with life fr()m morn to twilight dim; 
And graceful as a fawn that stoops to drir.k. 
Coy and alert, at some still river's brink. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



137 



The Unspeakable Turk. 

Again it surges to the front, 

The Crescent dripping red, 
From towns and hamlets where they He, 

The yet unbnried dead; 
From bnrnino- villages where homes 

Are scenes of vengeance dire, 
Old age and childhood — womanhood — 

To sword and lust and tire. 

The Turk holds nothing sacred 

That Christian dogs have earned. 

For centuries by him the Cross, 
Despised, dishonored, spurned ; 

And glory with a Ijrazen front 
Still heads the bloody way. 

Where women and where children shrink- 
Before the light of da}\ 

How long shall sodden Europe, 

O'er hill and vale and moor, 
Refuse to heed the piteous voice 

Clamoring at her door? 



138 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

How long dares Christian England, 
In this enhghtened hour, 

Press to her hlood-stained bosom 
The imp of "balanced power?" 



Justice: A Picture. 

Tillman's Trial. 

Let us be just, tho' justice stand apart, 

A shamed and sorry figure, while her scales 

L'nbalanced hang, and o'er her piercing eyes 

One weary hand is held, as if to shade 

The stern light of publicity that beats above. 

And well-nigh overwhelms her strange new mien. 

Let us be just. Old Time has travelled far. 

And measured many cycles in his route. 

And yet he pauses not for right or wrong; and so 

w^e know, 
As time shall- Justice be, as stern and unrelenting, 

tho' alone 
She stands to-day, her gaze askance at man. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 139 



The Story of a Rose. 

A STATELY woman walked at morn, 

All joy and peace receiving, 
To wealth and beauty fitly born. 

All g-ood and true believing : 
She gathered roses, red and white. 

And pink, with hearts resplendent. 
Then turned, and lo, a basket quite 

O'erflowing — leaves attendant. 

"So many roses pure and sweet, 

It were a shame to soil them. 
Beneath the ball-room's careless feet. 

With pleasure just to spoil them: 
The best shall go by single stem 

To gladden prisoned faces; 
It may be some faint heart in them 

May find some deeper graces." 

Ah! little knew my lady fair. 

As through the gloom she passed. 

That one poor soul was lying there 
Sinking and failing fast: 



140 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A soul that once on eagle wings 

Had cleft nnti) the sky. 
Now broken, chained with earthly things, 

Had crept in there to die. 

A thoughtful nurse had placed a screen 

Within that corner drear; 
For One was drawing near unseen. 

Yet dread and e\'er near : 
The jet black hair was smoothly laid 

Across the pillow white; 
The poor faint heart \\as sore afraid 

With terror grim that night; 

\\'hen lo ! a \'ision. bright and clear, 

Bent tenderly abo\e. 
A yision crowned with sunny liair. 

And eyes that brimmed with loye. 
A cool, soft hand upon her head. 

A rose before her sight, 
A yoice — no matter what it said. 

It Ijrought her peace and light. 

She to<)k the rose with faintest thrill 
O'er the pot>r wasted frame. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



141 



She looked, and looked — O heart ! be still 
The blessed tears they came, 

A mighty downpour, washing wide 
The sloughs of shame and sin. 

And cleansing, a resistless tide. 
The blackened heart within. 



That rose close by a cottage door 

Had crept and twined and budded o'er, 

A wonder aye to maids and men, 

A thing of passing beauty then, 

A crown to one glad, laughing child 

Who called the bush her own, and smiled 

To see the beauty that it grew, 

So sweet and shy, so strange and new ; 

So many buds to blossom all. 

From summer till the leaves must fall, 

And then all closely sodded o'er. 

To bud again in spring once more. 

That rose again ! Why, memory swept 
Small wonder that the woman wept — 
Her mother's rose, in days gone by. 
Beneath old Scotland's fleecy sky! 



142 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



It smelt to her of a blossoming moor, 
With the breezes chasing- each other o'er ; 
She fingered it gently, with loving hand, 
A bloom from her distant native land: 
vSo long ago, that it seemed to say, 
"You were another in that fair day; 
A happy, innocent, laughing child. 
With eyes that lot)ked at my heart and smiled, 
A bud of Nature, so glad and gay. 
With life one lovely summer day. 
Sunshine and shower, tear and smile, 
Alas! you have tra\-elled many a mile 
O'er byways of sorrow, doubt and sin — 
Do you think the Master will let you in? 
Can mercy be found for such as you? 
Is there anything that can make you new? 
Is there any grace that can wash you white? 
And the little rose answered "yes" that night, 
As hushed the turbulent soul went out, 
Without a fear, and beyond a doubt. 

She lay on a prison cr)t at rest. 
The dead hands holding a rose to her breast, 
A smile of peace o'er the chastened brow — 
Ah ! tongues of a day, be kind to her now. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 143 



A Thought Reclothed, 

Here is something grand to-day, 
Caught from the busy way, 

Of the people that come and go ; 
Something vvondrously fine — 
Harken — it may be thine, 

A gem of all gems below. 



Some are so busy and glad. 
Some are so restless and sad, 

While others are painfully slow ; 
Scarcely any we meet. 
In home, or mart, or street. 

The golden mean of life know. 

Strenuous workers here. 
Listless toilers there, 

Thronging the ways of life; 
Hearts that are wondrous still. 
Lives that are made of will. 

Steeped and folded in strife. 



144 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Once in a while y(m may find 
One wlio has left behind. 

All of earth's ^^-litter and glare; 
Into whose soul-lit eyes 
Nestles a faint surprise, 

At the bustle and strife everywhere. 

"As a man thinketh" — indeed! 
Food for the hour of need. 

Plenty and peace in the strife ; 
Marrino- the noble way, 
Lightino- the wintry day — 

Thought is the impulse of life. 

Cover it if you will. 
Laugh it away, but still 

The thought will grow to the deed: 
Tear it up by the roots. 
Destroy all branches and shoots — 

You must harbor the germ you feed. 

I can think to be good and grand — 
The poorest in the land — 

And my life shall grow to my thought 
I can think to be false and low 
And darkness and sorrow know — 

And as I think I have wrought. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



145 



Tahkeeostee. 

Bv the laughing Tahkeeostee 

Oft I met my lover true ; 
Many moons we wandered by it 

Talking — what is that to you? 

In the spring-time, when the dog-wood 
Hung its banners on the hill ; 

Tn the golden summer glory 

And when autumn joy was still. 

When old Winter spread his pinions 

And essayed his icy chill, 
By the laughing Tahkeeostee, 

Often walking, talking still. 

By the laughing Tahkeeostee 
Dwelt a gentle king of men. 

Smiled and frowned and pondered often 
Of the ways of lovers then. 

Now no more beside the waters 

(lirl and lover wander on ; 

They have passed to lands far distant 

And the gentle king has gone. ) 

10 



146 • THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



Sonship. 



Sheltered beneath my Father's hand. 
Serene I view the promised land 

That stretches wide before me; 
The ])eauties of the earth below. 
The joyonsness of life to know, 

And love that shadows o'er me. 

To tonch the harp of many strings. 
Attuned tt) all earth's whisperings. 

To know the joy of living: 
To blend the bitter and the sweet. 
To lay before the Father's feet. 

All that is worth the giving. 

The bond of sympathy to feel : 

To hope and yearn, to pray and kneel. 

With many hearts submissive 
To rise and sing a thankful song. 
To speed the note of joy along. 

Clear, glorious and incisive. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



U7 



To pass beyond the house of prayer, 
To find it present e\'ery\vhere. 

In street and home and hall ; 
To joy beyond the joys of earth. 
In gladness of the glad New Birth, 

In, on, and over all. 

Unscathed to pass of woe and sin. 
Bearing a talisman within. 

That sheds a radiance ever : 
In care that is not care to-day. 
On strife that passes swift away. 

To come ag"ain here never. 

The tear of sympathy to shed, 

To heal the hnrt and lift the head. 

By shame or sorrow bended; 
To know the Brotherhood of Man, 
All things to bless, all things to scan, 

If but by good attended. 

Yet. bound in happy bonds, to be 
.Vt liberty and always free. 

To serve, and give, and love : 
Beneath the gentle Father's care, 
Rejoicing in his Son to share — 

Below and vet above. 



148 



rillL FIRST SHEARING. 



Lines on the Death of Miss Amelia 
Miller. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Harmon H. Miller. 

Shi-: passed away in her youthful bloom. 
Too sweet and fair for the cold dark tomb: 
And we th<iu,£;ht as we sorrowing l)ore her on 
That the light and the life of our home was gone; 

For we had lavished our boundless love 

On the blossom tended at length above: 

And it seemed so hard that the wealth so given 

Was not for the earth, but all f( ir heaven. 

Then came a man from the house of God 
(He, too, the mourner's wav had trod;) 
Patient and kind, and without restraint. 
He listened the mother's mourning plaint. 

"You have not wasted your training here ; 
This bud has bloomed in a sunnier sphere: 
Some day, some time, you shall know full well. 
And be glad of the proof of this I tell." 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 149 

Oh! blessed thought to the sorrowing soul, 
That heaven, not earth, is the Christian's goal; 
That the child of our love who passes away 
Is ever our own in a happier day. 



A Borrowed Expression. 

•'1 CARRY you on my heart" these many days and 
days, 

As I think of all your constant love, and your ([uiet 
helpful ways : 

Of the burden borne so bravely through the ever- 
changing past — 

No wonder that you scorned its cause and spurned 
its weight at last. 

"I carry you on my heart." by happy days long tied, 
And by the blessed memory of our yet living dead; 
By fond hearts throbbing now with constant love 

and true. 
1 know that yet the future holds some unthcaig-ht joy 

for vou. 



150 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Nesting-time. 



"Who knows what the Ijirds are doing 

Up in the old oak tree? 
And the redl)ird slowly sharpened his bill, 

But ne\er a wink gave he. 
Then he tiew to his mate, with a sweet, clear note. 

She was brown and wondrous shy. 
"They are watching us now," he said. "Away, 

\\'e must build so high — so high." 

W'lio knows what the l)irds are doing- 
Down in the thicket there? 

They are watching the buds, I do believe, 
Come out so sweet and fair. 

They are whispering low to the little tiowers 
That peep from the sodden mould ; 

They are wondering why in the lap of spring 
It can be so cold — so cold. 

\\'ho knows what the birds are doing 

Away in the forest dim ? 
If you listen early, and without noise. 

You can hear their morning hymn; 



THB FIRST SHEARING. 



151 



'Tis a note of joy and gladness, 
That the world can be so fair; 

'Tis a tune of thankful beauty, 
That spring- is here — is here. 



To a Voyager. 

A. B. L. 

We thought of you upon the ocean wide, 
Propelled by steam, spurred on by wind and tide ; 
But ]\Iarch was rough, and we had doubts and 

fears — 
What wonder that our thoughts were ofttimes 

prayers ? 

We talked of your rich past and present brave, 
And thought you lonely on the deep sea's wave. 
Yet knew that One his constant watch would keep. 
To cheer and guide you o'er the trackless deep. 



152 



THE FIRST SHEARLYG. 



Song. 

By the placid Swanannoa 

Lived the red man years gone l)v. 
Fished and hunted, smoked and shimbered. 

Sheltered by the mountains high. 

In his wigwam. In' the streamlet. 

Dwelt his squaw of dusky face. 
Reared his young ones, lithe and active. 

For the field and for the chase. 

Little reck'd he of the rumors 

Of another day to be. 
Of a strange and wondrous paleface. 

Coming o'er the mighty sea. 

Fished and hunted, smoked and sluml)ered, 
\\'hile the river murmured on. 

Careless as its peaceful waters. 
Till his fleeting day was gone. 

By the placid Swanamioa 

Lives another race to-day; 
Red man, wigwam, squaw and papoose 

Into silence passed away. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



153 



To a Nurse, 

After her Month ok Probation. 

Well tlDiie, brave heart? The world has crying 
need 

Of gentle hands and skilled, 
Of patient hearts with tenderness, and minds 

With healing- knowledge filled. 

Humanity's great Inirden weighs it down 

With myriad ills and sore ; 
Sin, suffering, death — the monster with three 
throats. 

That ever craves for more. 

And ye who lal:)or for the weal of those 

Who suffer and who die. 
Lead hallowed lives, that yet shall bring repose 

To mind, and hand, and eye. 

'Tis grand to stand beside the bed of death 

And ease the tyrant grim. 
But greater, grander, still it is, to fight 

And conquer — even him. 



154 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A View from the Pearson Estate. 

The stately pile of Vanderbilt's 
Lies to the right extreme; 

The Tahkeeostee winds below, 
Fairer tliaii poet's drearn. 

A tiny hamlet nestles 

Below the wooded hill ; 
No sound disturbs the stillness, 

But wild birds' happy trill. 

Afar the city rises : 

It seems within the shade 
A fair and lovely l)lendin§' 

Of that which man has made. 

And Nature, in her fullness, 
About the nestling' homes. 

With here and there a church's spire. 
And minarets and domes. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



155 



A Cradle in the House 



Father walks on tiptoe — 

And no light weight is he — 
And shuts the door so gently — 

Sight comical to see. 
Mother hastens lightly, 

And softly as a mouse. 
And lifts a finger warningly : 

There's a cradle in the house. 



A cradle rocking softly 

Beside the oaken wall. 
Where shadows gather latest. 

When evening's sunbeams fall ; 
A cradle rudely fashioned, 

And with no hangings fair, 
Yet holds no cot in all the land 

Sweeter than infant there. 

A cradle rocking softly. 

At morning noon and night; 



1-6 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

A wee one kicking bravely. 
And crowing- with delight ; 

And playing with the sunbeams 
That dance upon the wall, 

And laughing at the shadows 
That o'er the cradle fall. 



The SouTs Yearning. 

Human enough, you are my friend, 
To know that, soon or late, 

With all your learning, wit, and pride. 
The soul }-earns for its mate. 

Oft tiirough the changing years of life. 

Till life itself is passed 
To fuller life, with wisdom rife — 

To be coiuplete at last. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



157 



Little Shoes. 

I FOL'ND them up in the garret. 

Among some papers and clothes, 

Closely tied in a piece of silk — 
A pair of wee little shoes. 

Where have the little feet wandered 
That scuffed them out on the floor; 

That wore the sides and stubbed the toes, 
And rubbed them a wee bit more? 

Have they sauntered in vales of beauty, 
"Mid many a mental flower. 

Or lingered apart from duty 
In pleasure's sylvan l^ower? 

Ah ! no. In a peaceful garden. 

Under the brow of a hill, 
By the busy world forgotten, 

The little feet lie still. 



158 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Nothing they knew of the pathway 

Into the valley of care; 
Nothing- of sin or of sorrow — 

They never entered there. 

They were gathered like spotless lilies 

Budding to perfect bloom, 
By One who loved them dearly — 

Away from earthly gloom. 

I know they have trod the highways 
Of a land that is fairer than ours; 

I know they have lingered in Ijyways, 
Under the trees and the flowers. 

Dear little shoes discarded, 
I lay you away with tears ; 

Some time I shall clasp those feet again 
At the further end of the years. 

Some time they shall hasten to meet me 

Over the way of gold. 
For my darling is there to greet me. 

Sheltered in heaven's fold. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



159 



Wrinkles. 

Old Time has taken liberties 
W'nh that dear face of thine, 

And writ in wondrous characters 
Full many a mystic sign. 

I wonder if he comprehends 

How true his writings are — . 

How deep]}- learned he must be 
To make them go so far! 

For back across the ceons 

His first faint pencil drew. 

And now I see his characters 
Have been portra^^d on you. 

Such might}- hieroglyphics 
No other hand has penned. 

As this faint pencilling, so fine 
That it can have no end. 

xA.nd yet. dear heart. I would not take 
The bloom of youth to-day. 

For all the wrinkles that are yours — 
The}- have so much to say. 



l5o THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Up and Again 



"Hoping to experience that mysterious force of repara- 
tion which Heaven has mercifully imparted to every sound 
body and healthfully constituted mind, which turns evil into 
good, and transmutes dull misery into that active battling 
with sorrow which in time produces a deeper peace than even 
happiness." 

Ur and again! with the buoyant flight 

Of an eagle on its wings, 
Beyond the bhght of the coldest night, 

Or sorrow's harmwing things: 

O soul of mine, in the Light Divine, 

That beams on thee l)y day, 
There is no night if you see aright, 

Along the uphill way. 

For deep in tlie breast of each wayward gtiest 

Who sups at the feast of life. 
Is a giant still in the deathless will, 

Smothered perchance by strife: 



THE FIRST SHEARING. i6i 

Up and again ! Tho' it seemeth vain, 

A boon is to be won, 
Beyond the joy of our youth's alloy, 

Under an earthly sun. 

The heart may sigh, with its pitiful cry 

For rest and ease and sleep; 
You must mount a guard, and gallop it hard, 

If you win the two-fold keep. 

Up and again! With a joyous strain, 

For a crown that is not rest; 
The day may be when thine eye shall see. 

And know Who loveth best. 



Mary Lee. 

So fair a name, and with such memories fraught! 
What matter if the North smiled on thy birth ; 
The South is aye thy home — 
Sweet singer of my heart. 



1 62 'J^ii^ FIRST SHEARIXG. 



The Woods. 

I LOVE the woods, these i^iilsino- sohtndes 

Are God's own sanctuary. Long ere man 

Defiled the earth with murder, 'twas the same, 

.\n(l such to-day. Races unknown 

Have hxed within the sliade. Nothing" is left 

To tell their lo\ es and strifes. The poor fntlian 

passed 
Unc(»nscious of his destiny. Another race 
Usur])s his |)lace to-da}', and, lo ! the woods are not. 

From prehistoric times man use<l the groves 
xAs places of worshi]). And the Almighty walked 
And lent his \'oice to their ])ure majesty. 

Here at length 
■\\'e see earth's heauty and its wondrous peace — 
A mar\el past helief. and realize 
Such ^\■as the earth fresh from the hands of God. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



163 



Old Letters. 

"Vou must not keep old letters," 

The Mater said to me ; 
"They make so much of litter — 

'T'm sure }'ou will agree." 
I smiled m}- acquiescence. 

With not a tweak or pull — 
At home — (alas! my conscience!))- 

I had a harrel full ! 

And just to-day, in cleaning, 

I found two letters dear. 
Written in tender friendship 

O'er many a l^yg-one year : 
I had forgotten almost 

Along the winding way. 
That love like this had 1)lossomed 

For me full many a day. 

And such a note of gladness 
Those letters Ijrought to me. 

Of living cheer and beauty — 
I'm sure vou will agree. 



164 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



W'e must not keep old letters. 
Save just the one or two, 

To keep us in remembrance. 
As on and up we go. 



To a Flock ot Wild Geese. 

Whither away in your airy tlight, 
Birds that fly in the dead of night? 
Have you been robbing a neighbor's corn. 
Taking your fill ere the dewy niiirn? 

Flying Ioav o'er the tree tops high, 
Startling the woods with discordant cry; 
Seeking perchance a watery rest, 
Or only flying from quest to quest? 

Noisy bird of the restless wing, 
Are you ever glad at anything? 
Or, like my heart, doth a vague unrest 
Settle forever in your grey breast? 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



165 



To a St. Bernard. 

Duchess, doggie — dear old doggie! 

^Vaiting by the way, 
Has any one a kindly word 

Spoke to you to-day? 

Peering from }'our pensive eyes, 

As my voice you hear. 
Seems to be a memory 

Striving to appear. 

Do you ken of other days 
Long since passed away? 

Of a rough, but kindly hand? — 
Dear old doo-o-ie, sav. 



&;=.' 



Of voices that are absent? 

Ah! doggie, you and I, 
Must make the best of life to-day 

And pass the other by! 



1 66 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Three Roses. 

(Mary Rose, Nancy Rose and Susan Rose.) 

Three roses in a o-arden, 

A-bu(l(ling- on one stem. 
Oil! what sliall day's own l)eauty 

Of sunshine luring to them? 

Three roses in the garden. 

Roses \irgin white. 
Veiling hearts that hide l)el()w. 

From the garish light. 

And one is i)icked ! ^ — Its petals 
Are scattered far and wide. 

And yet its beauty lingers 
Spite of time and tide. 

And two are shedding fragrance 
Across the world to-dav : 

Rut one is here and one is there. 
And both are far awav. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



167 



Tliree roses in a garden 

Some da}- will bloom again, 

Yet grant their sweetness many years 
Amongst ns may remain. 



The Source of Happiness. 

Not from the secret fountains. 

Nor from the hidden spring. 
Beneath the shade of mountains, 

By forests whispering: 
But from the brook that windeth 

Along the ctjmmon way, 
Peace and beauty tindeth, 

The thirsty soul to-day. 

The common grandeur of the earth, 

The wealth of little things. 
Perfection grown of lowly birth. 

Creation's murmurings — 
Happy the soul that, kneeling, draws, 

Its sustenance tc^-day. 
All heeding of the primal cause. 

That guides the brooklet's way. 



1(38 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Sculptor's Test. 

Within his studio, one bright day, 
A massive block of marble lay, 
So spotless pure, so wondrous white 
It seemed to fill the room with light. 
And woo his genius to dare 
And try to form its being there. 

Si)urred by the one absorbing thought. 
From day to day he patient wrought. 
From week to week, from year to year, 
Till fourteen of them pictured there. 
And he all doubt if 'twas his best, 
And, trembling much, applied the test. 

He called a child — a little child — 

All innocent and undefiled. 

And. pointing to the figure there, 

In its pure beauty, grand and fair. 

He bade her mark it long and well. 

And whom she thoup-ht 'twas meant to tell. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 169 

He watched her with a beating heart, 
Nor could he check a fearsome start, 
AMien the bright eyes had wandered o'er 
His work, and viewed it yet once more. 
She spake, as though of holy things — 
" 'Tis some good angel — without wings!" 

He turned him to his work again. 
With more of pleasure than of pain. 
And labored on with hopes and fears. 
Through seven more long weary years, 
And feeling he had done his best, 
He once again applied the test. 

The child he called unto him then. 
Looked on it once, and looked again. 
And worshipping with reverent face 
The beauty of its matchless grace, 
Bent, all abashed, her infant head. 
And "It is Jesus Christ," she said. 



170 TI-^^ FIRST SHEAR! XG. 



Life. 



How l^eaiitiful is life, wlien tlie first streak of dawn- 
ing 

Totiches the stmrise hills, 
And all the glint and glow of early morning 

The wide east fills ! 

How l)eantiful is life, at noontide's honr, 

\\'hen, glowing like the snn. 
^jan's widening ])athway, lit with wondr(jiis power. 

Is mapped and run ! 

How beautiful is life, when eventide 

Steals softly on, 
-And sunset's gates are Hinging glory wide, 

Till day is done ! 

How beautiful is life, when mystic night 

Disrobes her starry breast 
Gleaming with other world's far distant light. 

And man must rest ! 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



No Mercy for Him. 

Hts father drank from his earliest days, 

Drank — as a pig- drinks swih — 
And he married a maiden pure as the snow. 

As drtmkards sometimes wiH ; 
And this is their son. a lovely boy, 

The neighbors" joy and pride. 
His mother told me the other day, 

She wished that he then had died. 

They sell him drink by the jug full, 

Whisky and wine and beer. 
In pints and quarts and gallons, 

A brave array is there — 
He takes his fill in the 1:»ar-room, 

He drinks scjme more at home. 
And they care not a snap, these whisky men. 

That he hastens on to his doom. 

The open grave is just ahead. 
The chain-gang and the pen ; 

There was a time when he held his head 
\\\Xh the best of Christian men; 



171 



1^2 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



There was a time — on a Sunday morn - 

The tempter came to him, 
And bHghted the bloom on the tree of Hfe, 

And made the dayhg-ht dim. 



What can ye do, ye Christian ( ?) men, 

Judges and bishops high. 
Lawyers and ministers of God. 

How shall ye make reply? 
Ye made him a drunkard — what he is 

Your cruel work goes on ; 
How shall ye stand at the bar of God, 

With nothing to stand upon? 



What Is It? 

Thou virile daughter of a stately dame; 
Misled in youth, yet never known to shame ; 
Strong in thy strength of wisdom true and pure, 
Holding all things that strengthen and endure. 
Clasping the good, and casting forth the ill. 
Bearing another name, yet daughter still. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 173 



"Ould Ireland." 



No more on Erin's Emerald Isle the lie'hts are burn 



fe' 



ing low 



No more the snnnv Irishman hides for an Eno-Hsh 

foe ; 
No more the half-starved mother draws unto her 

drooping breast — 
Crooning a curse on England — the babe that scarce 

can rest. 

Oh ! shade of Robert Emmet ! What wonder 

draweth nigh ? • — 
No more across thy native land the children's piteous 

cry; 
No more they scour the naked fields for "praties" 

turning green ; 
Her starving load of human kine, thank God ! no 

more is seen. 

The wheels of time have circled slow, and o'er the 

smiling land, 
Grim poverty and ignorance have sauntered hand 

in hand; 



'74 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



But England in tliese latter days, with Gladstone in 

the \an. 
Has learned the lesson, once so hard, of hearth and 

home for man. 

1 think the souls of patriots, \vhere\'er thev mav be, 
Must dance a jig for Ireland, of all her troubles 

free ; 
Must lift a pcCan of thankfulness that on the earth 

at last, 
in one fair spot at least, the woe of centuries has 

l)assed. 

Then, hang up the shillalah. and lay the banshee by, 
A better day for Ireland has dawned on Freedom's 

sky; 
Home Rule is coming for the land, and |)eace and 

plenty yet — 
The darkness of the centuries, alas! I can foreet. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 175 



Thy Will. 



Not mine, I)iit thine! A[)art from thee to-day 
I dare not wander if the body will ; 

Thy love must he enough ; beneath its ray 
The soul rejoices, steady, buoyant still. 

Not mine the outer part of fret and strife 
Of daily jarring with the crowds that meet, 

But by the hourly routine of our life. 

The nearness holy and the C(^nverse sweet. 

I hold a chalice! — What thou layest therein. 
Be mine to i)our l)efore the restless feet. 

That come and go, unceasing in the din, 

Whose echo faintly moves along the street. 

So be it mine the cup of joy to hold. 

Of i)eace and love, and all thy b(^undless will. 

Unmindful of the tumult or the gold, 

Save as thev stir thv seas of beautv still. 



176 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



"A Born Poet." 

What It Means. 

Poor fellow! pcjor fellow! — I'm sorry for him! 
He may live till he's old and his eyes are dim ; 
Till his back is crooked, his hair is grey, 
And his once verdant mind has nothing to say ; 
Till his locks refuse to entwine his brow, 
But he'll never need pity as he does now. 

For why? He's a poet — a poet born! 

A tiling for the wide world's butt and scorn ; 

A receiver of sorrows, of aches and tears, 

Of doubts and despair, dismay and fears; 

A seer of right, a bearer of wrong. 

With a heart full of sighs and a brain full of song. 

If you have a friend, and you're sure that he's nice. 
And if you've a heart, oh! take my advice — 
Call him a liar. Inland him a thief. 
Say that he is of all rascals the chief; 
But never that thing, of all others forlorn. 
Not made or evolved — but a poet born ! 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



177 



England and America. 

Behold, aclown the vale of years, 
A stately pair, arm-locked, appears; 
The younger, with majestic mien. 
Steps lightly as an old-world queen. 
And from her eyes — Victorian blue — 
A radiant light is beaming through. 
The elder, with her furrowed brow, 
And eyes of undimmed splendor now. 
Treads like a matron sure of time. 
Her stately carriage most sublime ; 
Her head a snow-white crowning bears; 
Her form scarce shows the weight of vears 
Her gaze — not o'er the pathway wide, 
But to the partner at her side. 
The}- seem engrossed in something new — 
A wondrous vista opes to view ; 
No gesture theirs; their stately walk 
Is filled with measured, earnest talk; 
The }'ounger lists with reverent eye. 
The elder's counsel, for reply. 



178 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A Plea for the Birds. 

Oh ! save the birds. There have been creatures, fair 

As ever glacklened Eden, destroyed for lack of sense, 

In wanton sportsmansliip. The mighty auk 

Is l)ut a memory now. Sixty years agone 

Saw the last stately pair on Erin's Isle 

Hunted to death. The enui, too, has long suc- 

cumlied t( > man ; 
.And rarest birds of the far northern seas have 

passed away. 
To man's insatiate lust weak victims all. 
There have been l)irds — the great white water-hen 

of Norfolk Isle, 
The gorgeous sickle-bill, of l)lack and gold, and 

many more. 
Exterminated for man's \anity. Hunted and slain 
To deck a woman's head, or some poor naked king 
Of southern isles afar. 

\\y sea and \vo(xllan(l, long 
The slaughter is accomplished, till it seems 
Man's power t(^ blight is equal to his greed. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



179 



A few centuries hence shall see our birds of plumage 

and of song 
Only on paper, hung, it may be, then, for that fair 

race to be, 
To mark the passage of the birds from earth. 



The Newest New Woman. 

I SEE her down the centuries stand. 
Holding a small child by the hand ; 
Her visage mild, W'ith eye serene. 
And firmness as a mount between ; 
The carriage graceful, vigor strong, 
And head well-poised, she moves along. 
And tunes her footsteps to the pace 
Of her young heir of all the race. 
Seeming as if the world about 
Has hedged her in, and all without 
Is working only for the child, 
And her strong guidance, undefiled ; 
Yet knowing all, and not apart. 
She passes, more of soul than heart, 
A mind attuned to all earth's best — 
Her God and man attend the rest. 



I So THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Last Word. 

"I ASKKD for a knife, my darling, 

You have brought me the scissors instead;' 
But she stood and she answered gravely, 

"I am sure it was 'scissors' you said." 

"You ha\e made a mistake, my dearest; 

I am sure I asked for a knife." 
"No ! It was scissors ! — I know it, 

As sure as I am a wife." 

"You are utterly wrong for once, my dear, 

As sure as I am a man ; 
It was 'knife,' I said; so bring me a knife 

As quick as e\er you can." 

"But you wanted scissors," she pleaded; 
'• "The de\il take 'em," cried he; 
"Go, get you in! I said a knife, 
And bring a knife to me." 

''Scissors you said," she slowly turned; 

"Scissors it was. I know;" . 



THE FIRST SHEARING. i8l 



"I said a knife!" — three paces took he, 
But forbore to strike a blow. 

She walked away. "Scissors," she cried ; 

"Knife!" bawled he back again; 
"Scissors" and ''knife" rang out apace. 

And a sad thing happened then. 

They lived by the river; the water was near 
She looked not where she stood ; 

"Scissors" and "knife" were the all of life - 
He pushed ! She fell in the flood ! 

And "scissors," screamed, as the water 
Rushed in her mouth and ears ; 

But a mighty cry of "knife" rang out 
Over her sinking fears. 

Three times she rose to the surface. 

Three times "scissors!" cried. 
He stood on the bank and watched her — 

'Twas her own fault if she died. 

But alas! as she sank the last time 

He might have saved her then, 
But two fingers arose o'er the water. 

And their motion was "scissors" again. 



1 82 77/£ FIRST SHEARIXG. 



"Declined, with Thanks." 

I WOULD approach with re\erent face. 
And ah I own of nath'e grace. 
To thank the echtors to-day — 
A line won't teh wliat I've to say. 

For long, long years, from youth's fair hour 
\Mien I beneath its gushing i)ower. 
Dared sue the muse that is divine 
To crown these simple thoughts of mine. 

And up through youth until to-day 
I stand with hair that should l)e grey, 
Bv post and boat. 1)_\' steam and train. 
By man, horse, donke}'. barrow, wain ; 

I've freighted forth the work of years. 
In hope and toil in smiles and tears. 
In ardent youth and sober age. 
Line after line of rythmic page. 

Till now T stand \\\\\\ reverent face. 
And all that's mine of native grace. 
To thank the hearts I once deemed flint 
For all of mine tlicy did not print. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



183 



The Threat of a Three-Year-Old. 

I HAD insulted "tlie Bishop" — 

Had grossly maligned His Grace, 

And a frown of portentous rigor 
Shadowed the rosy face. 

I had insulted His Lordship, — 

By a word or a slap may be. 
And a whole sea of emotions 

Welled themselves up in the baby. 

He left me alone a few minutes, 
. And tried very hard to cry. 
But the tears wouldn't come — he was angry, 
And the fount of his grief was dry. 

At length he walked up beside me — 
The boy to a man was grown — 

And he gravely announced, "I'll waise me 
A m()\'\-er of my own ; 

"And while T am waising the mower, 
I'll waise me some chillen, too — 

And then you'll see. you mean mower, 
I'll ha\e nothing to do with you!" 



l8_^ THE FIRST SHEARING. 



An Incident of Pinevvoods Fire. 

Oil ! mother-heart, so strong and true, didst think 

when tlie fiery wave 
Threatening thy loved ones onward swept, that thy 

poor arms could save? 
Didst think that the demon then let loose would at 

thy de\"otion flee? 
Or that the f\ve at thy quivering l^reast could safe 

fnjm destructi(jn he? 

Songs have heen sung oi couragecjus deeds done hy 

the daring- brave : 
Of li\'es saved at the peril t)f life on land or ocean 

wave ; 
But ne\er a hard immortal hath told of a love like 

thine. 
Surpassing the love of mortals, apjiroaching the 

Love Divine. 

Think of it, mothers in quiet homes, with your little 

ones hy your knee, 
The rush and the smoke and the terror of that near- 

ing fiery sea ; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



185 



The white-lipped horror of women, and manliood's 

speechless fear, 
And the cries of the little children at the dread doom 

drawing near. 

The saddest part of a woe like this is the little chil- 
dren's fear ; 

The understood is partly robbed of its horrors hov- 
ering- near; 

But the dread unknown is a thing of ill to stagger 
the bravest heart. 

And the children can only quake and fear — they 
can bear no hero's part. 

So hold them close to thy faithful breast, O mother, 

so strong and true, 
Sheltered close in the danger that only thy own 

heart knew : 
Folding them one and all in thy arms, with a word, 

a smile, and a sigh. 
Strong in thy strength of deathless love to suffer 

and ccjnquer and die. 



1 86 ^'HE FIRST SHEARING. 



One Day. 



This day of all the clays! Long years have passed. 

Since Ijv thy side I fondly lingered last. 

Loth to depart and loth to let thee go. 

Yet then belie\'ing" it was l)etter so; 

Blind to the future, blind to the si)ee(ling pain — 

Ne\-er on earth to hear thy \oice again. 

Since that sad day the slowly dragging years 
Have laid their weight of sorrow and of cares 
L'pon this heart of mine, so loved of thee; 
But nex'er day like that again can l)e. 
So fair about, with autumn's beauty sjiread. 
And far apart thou liedst. silent — dead! 

'Twas hard indeed to stand beside the tomb 

Of one to whom we thought death could not come 

To mark the cofhn lid close o'er the brow 

\\'e loved and honored in the past as now: 

He died among his own. in foreign land. 

Tended and soothed bv loving and loved hand. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 187 

But thy dear life must wear itself away, 
Long-ino- for home and kin until this day, 
This day of all the days — st) bright for thee; 
For us so dark with woe's dread mystery: 
The (la}'-dawn of thy soul, so gently fair, 
Heaven's rich reward — for us the valley here. 

This day of all the days. I see once more, 

Th}' g-rave, sweet smile! so well-known 'twas of 

yore 
I g-rew to slight it as a little thing; 
To-day, what joy its memory can bring — 
Joy kin to pain — to know thee sheltered where 
Nothing can harm thee ! — Grant I meet thee there. 



"Witchwood." 

Art and natiu'e ha\-e been wedded here. 

In perfect sympathy; 
The softly distant mountains hovering near 

Woods, grass and flowers ; 
To charm the eye, and birds to lure the ear, 

'Mid la\\ns and bowers. 



1 88 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A Mother's Grave. 

In the calm and (|iiiet clmrcliyard of a village in the 

Isle, 
Where the fitfnl skies of Britain and the snowdrops, 

drooping, smile ; 
'Meath the oak-trees' shade and tlie chestnuts' lordly 

bower. 
Amid the myriad faces of England's daisy flower; 
Alone, among a host (3f graves, a mother slumbers 

there — 
Of all her dearest ones of earth, not one — -not one 

— is near. 

No best beloved's hand to trim the grass so fitly 

green ; 
A simple headstone tells the tale of the what once 

hath been. 
Nt) children, men and women now, to pause and 

linger here. 
And breathe beside a mother's tomb a child's most 

earnest prayer; 



ri-IB FIRST SHEARING. 



189 



No gentle hands made gentler by the purest earthly 

love, 
To plant the violet in the grass, and train the rose 

above. 

Not there — not there — 'tis but a gra\'e ! — "tis but 

a mound at best ! 
■Oh ! read the word upon the stone. "She died in 

peace" — at rest ; 
And if the spirit rested when death had stamped the 

brow, 
How bright must he her angelhood, so pure and 

spotless now ; 
And we can gaze from other lands to heaven's high 

curtain fair. 
And, knowing that her end was peace, we see her 

shinino- there. 



To S. H. H. 

A GARDEN spot your home to me ! 
So rich in beauty, choice and free; 
So fair and restful that it seems 
Like an enchanted isle of dreams. 



IQO 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Homeless. 

Under God's beautiful sunshine, 

Out in the wind and the snow. 
Homeless I wander — most pitiful thing 

Of all God's creatures below. 

Sinned ? Ah ! yes. I have drained to the dregs 

Of the bitter cup of shame; 
I have sunk my lowest, and now I pass, 

Unholy, without a name. 

Once I stood at my mother's knee. 

Long since she is in the skies — 
Thank God for that ! — while she talked to me 

Through the mist of her tear dimmed eyes. 

She told me of (lod and of hea\en. 

She warned me of Satan and sin ; 
.She said if T followed the Saviour's way 

I would surely enter in. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



191 



She left nie young-, and the world was hard, 
And I had to earn my bread; 

They told me then that my face was fair — 
They had better have slain me instead. 

Under God's beautiful sunshine. 

Out in the wind and the rain, 
Homeless I wander, never tci know 

The blessing of peace again. 



Tree Planting. 



When you are planting shade trees. 

Remember the fruit as well ; 
Think of the coming boys and girls, 

And see that the future tell, 
That you were no niggard in planting. 

Nor yet for self alone : 
For every tree should an apple be. 

When you come into your own ! 



IC,2 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



To a Sister. 

Sometimes I envy thee thy quiet life, 
Within the shadow of celestial hills, 

A\'ith all its untold beauty ever rife. 
And foreign to our petty human ills. 

Thou hadst such dreams for me, and I ha\-e trod 
A path thou canst not know! and it is well. 

So it but leads me home to thee and God, 
In the l)lest lieauty of thy land to dwell. 

In the fair time to l)e I }'et may turn 

To find thee waiting by another's side. 

So l)lest the meeting that I'm fain to )'earn 
To lay all else that binds me here aside ; 

For I ha\'e journeyed far from that bright way 
We kneu' together when our hearts were young; 

Often have stumbled and have gone astray. 

And wandered far the rocks and thorns among. 

But if I near the journey's end at last, 

. And find thee ^^■aiting in the garden fair, 
How little shall I reck of all that's past. 

So I Init meet thee — and another — there. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 1^3 



The Baby. 



Oh ! little mite of humanity, lying close to my 

breast, 
I have given you life, 1 am giving you love — would 

I could give you earth's best; 
For the years will come, and the years will go, and I 

cannot always stay. 
To guide your feet, your hands and mind, safe in 

the narrow way. 

Oh! little heart so close to mine, beating peacefully; 

Would I could steer this bark of thine o'er life's un- 
certain sea ! 

I'd outrun every gale that blew, and every storm 
that pass'd. 

And bring thee safely into port, a pure child-soul, 
at last. 

Oh ! little face so fair and sweet, and eyes so sunny 

blue, 
That hasten with a smile to greet the white soul 

peeping through. 
13 



I(^_l^ THE FIRST SHEARING. 



To think that care may Hne that l^row, or sorrow 

(Hm those eyes — 
Thv mother, love, would restless be. though passe;] 

beyond the skies. 

(_)h ! little life, so fragile, so tender and so dear. 
The Hand will surely guide thee that placed thee 

safely here ; 
1 he Love \\\\\ surely shield thee that gave to 

woman's heart 
Such cherished blessing, dearest, as "Gift of God" 

thou art. 

Oh! little spirit, white and pure, how dark this soul 

of mine. 
Looks in this earthly atmospliere contrasted clear 

with thine ! 
God grant the future brings to thee some golden 

years to win. 
And ha])piness 1)e thine without, and always thine 

within. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



195 



Wherefore ? 

There's wood upon the tal)le, 

There's water on the floor, 
Cliarcoal on the kalsomine, 

And chalk upon the door; 
There's never anything in place 

From busy morn till night; 
The stairway, once so trim and neat. 

Is now a fearsome sight. 

Caps are hiding everywhere, 

And blocks, and tools and things. 
Iron hoops and stranger gear 

Of old machines and rings ; 
Everything a child can tote 

Little, big and small. 
No matter if it's caked with dirt — 

That doesn't count at all ! 

You pick 'em up and put 'em by. 

You throw away and burn, 
By seme mysterious agency 

They manage t(^ return ! 



IC)6 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

Nails and door-knobs, bolts and things 
From everywhere and ever, 

Underfeet and all around. 

You cannot straighten — never. 

Ah ! well, the luisy little hands. 

The restless little feet. 
May w'ander some day far away, 

O'er life's uncertain street; 
The little ones, so careless now. 

Ma}' kindly turn some day. 
And bring some greater j^y to us. 

Upon the widening way. 



Morning Voices. 



When the morning wakes in splendor, 

After night of rushing rain. 
And the clouds, belated, gather 

Slowly for the start again. 
Then, O Soul, take heed and listen. 

With a heart of thankful cheer. 
To the song of joy triumphant 

That is voicing everywhere. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



197 



The Laborer. 

He bent above sweet-smelling earth, 

From morn to twilight dim; 
The elements that gave him birth, 

Were tightly sealed to him ; 
The book of Nature, open spread 

Through full soft summer days, 
The birds that caroled overhead, 

Were Greek to his dull gaze. 

He heeded not the blush of morn, 

The glow of dewy eve, 
The beauty of the night-time, borne 

For mankind to receive; 
For daily bread, and nothing more. 

His whole hard life was set; 
Yet children played about his door, 

And gaily hardship met. 

He came and went, and ate and slept, 
Like any well-trained beast. 

As Time, with unknow-n horrors crept. 
And not one link released; 



198 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

He lived and toiled, grew sick and died, 
Of all earth's beauty reft. 

Because Dame Fortune turned aside. 
And his one po^r claim left. 



A Summer Night in the South. 

A BROODixG tenderness o'erarcheth all. 

\\'ithin the hollow of His hand to lie; 
Though all the world, whatever may befall, 

In its mad whirl of pleasure rushes by. 

A tenderness so deep that one can hear. 

The sighing of the night-breath in the trees; 
A brooding so apart from doubt or fear. 

That none can trouble moments such as these. 

A blissful stillness, like to that which lay 

O'er Eden's l)eauty when all life was fair; 

Day followed night, and night was merged in day 
With ne\er thought of sorrow, sin. or care. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. iqq 



• If— 

If I had been with thee, but to close thine eyes 

To ho\-er o'er thee in those last swift hours that sped 

the messenger ; 
To catch the whispered w^ords, the tender messages 
To distant dear ones; to hold thy hand 
When through the "valley of the shadow" thy young 

feet 
]\Iust needs go forward, falteringly. Oh! it is so 

hard 
To know that strangers only were beside thee then, 
And not thine own. What do I say? Strangers? 
riiy Sa\-iour was thine own ! and he was there ! 
The gentle voice that soothed the sorrowing- • 
The self-same hand that raised the dead to life. 
Thou hadst no fear: and I am sure that it was well 

with thee, 
And well for evermore ! But, oh ! mv darling. 
Would I had been there. 



200 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



One of the Sweet Old Chapters. 

One of the sweet old chapters ! 

After a day Hke this; 
The day 1)rought tears and tronhle, 

The evening" 1)ring's no kiss. 

No rest in the arms I long for — 

Rest, and refnge, and home : 
(irieved, and lonely, and weary. 

Unto the Book T come. 

One of the sweet old chapters! 

The love that blossoms through 
His care of the birds and lilies, 

Out in the meadow dew. 

His evening lies soft around them. 

Their faith is simply to be: 
Oh ! hushed by the tender lesson. 

Mv God. let me rest in thee. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



2or 



Remorse. 

If I had tlioiight we could be parted thus, 
How often had I lingered by thy side, 

And talked with thee of all thy hopes and fears. 
And in thy presence been full satisfied. 

I would have been all that thy gentle heart 
Fondly believed me in those days gone by; 

But time can bring me nothing but remorse, 
And no redress to suppliants such as I. 

I would have hung upon thy lightest word, 

And cheered thy sorrows with a mighty hope; 

But now it is too late, and all my life, 
I must with this regret incessant cope. 

Was there no wdiisper in the golden past, 

To check my heartless mirth, and bid me stay,. 

And step aside, and lift some tender flow'r 

That my rude foot had crushed upon the way? 



202 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



1 heard it not, and time and season pass'd. 

And, ere I knew, the woeful end was by; 
Oh! what a day was that, how darkly shone 

The mocking- sun in that October sky! 

The way of life was rough to thee. I know. 

And thy faint heart oft treml)led 'neath its load 

Ah ! did I si)eak one word, or give my hand. 
If just but once, to help thee t»n thy road? 

Thou found'st a surer Guide than ever T 

Could e'er have been if I had done my l)est; 
And though the way to Him was rough and sore 
Thou cam'st at last to His all perfect rest. 

It is too late for words of tender love. 

And thou hast need of nothing earthly now: 
The cares of life, the rougher change of time. 

Can ne^'er mark thy ever youthful l)row. 

And I have my deserts! I may not tread 

With lingering step beside thy resting place: 

But thy young life has stamped upon my own, 
In tender hues and soft, its gentle grace. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 203 



And I liave said too nuich ; thou kuowest all 
That this o'erladen heart would fondly tell ; 

But thy forgiveness — it must wait till I 

Fathom life's mvsterv, too! And it is well. 



To a Singer. 



You sing the songs of the Master, 

Your voice is attuned to praise, 
Yet you never acknowledge, by word or deed, 

The Love that enriches your days : 
You sing of his marvellous 1)eauty, 

You sing of his wonderful love. 
And while y(>u are treading the downward path 

You sing of the home above. 

And how shall you e\-er explain it. 

When you stand at the bar of Ciod, 
With hundreds of witnesses by you. 

Telling the wa}' you have trod, 
\\'hen all through the mud and the mire of life. 

You sang the songs of the King. 
And yet in that day of Harvest Home 

You have nothino- but tares to bring! 



204 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



It Is Well. 

"Is it well with thy dear ones?"' 
Soft the prophet's accents fell. 

As he marked her eager greeting, 
And she answered, "It is well." 

Well, though (Mie was even lying- 
in the solemn hush of death. 

Not a useless tear or sighing. 

Save perchance a quickened hreath. 

He. her l)right-eyed darling, sleeping, 
Worn so frail and white hy pain. 

With his hoyish smile to waken. 
It might he. no more again. 

It was well ! — 'tis well to-day, 

'Neath the wave or 'neath the sod. 

Mourned and honored, or forgotten — 
W^ell — to he at rest in God. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



205 



To a Mother. 

Deep in the depths of my baby's eyes. 
Who knows what a world of wonder hes, 
Of love and beauty and sweet surprise, 
Who btit his mother? 

Close held in the clasp of this little hand, 
To give and to bless, to serve and comniand, 
Who but a mother can understand, 
Who but his mother? 

From the lips and tfjngue of this rosebud mouth 
Sweet as the odors- of the south, 
What strength and l^eauty may some time flow, 
Who but a mother may pray and know, 
AVho but his mother? 

Around the steps of these little feet. 
What hopes, ambitions, and high aims meet ! 
Which way or whither their pathway tends, 
Who but a mother comprehends. 
Who but his mother? 



2o6 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

Bound by the throlibing of this small heart, 
1 he hopes of a universe, trembling start, 
Unmarred and untainted by aught of earth, 
Sure as the faith that gives them birth, 
Down by the dark and up to the skies. 
As the love-light gleams in these sparkling eyes, 
His mother knows. 



A Timely Qiiestion. 

Is it worth while to rush, and tear, and fret. 

For power and fame and money, and the goal 
If the world's hardness, knowing even vet 

Apart from these must feed the deathless soul? 

Is it wt^rth while to wear the body so. 

That all our days are tuned to minor key: 
That in our hurry, as we forward go. 

\\'e fail to hear th' eternal symphonv? 

Is it worth while? — so many moons are set 
Along the varied valley of our life; 

So we but taste the sweetness — the regret — 
\\'hat need of useless hurrv — inane strife? 



THE FIRST SHEARING. . 207 



The Fate of Aaron Burr's Daughter. 

Out from the city of Charleston, lier sails to the 
southern breeze. 

There sailed, in that Christmas season, a ship for 
the northern seas ; 

Tn tlie bloom of her regal beauty the sorrowing- 
mother passed, 

From the land where her darling slumbered, who 
thought it a farewell last. 

Who reck'd that the loyal Patriot bore on her prow 
grim death ? 

(3r that the placid ocean was waiting for living- 
breath ? 

Friends that bade her farewell, and noted the snowy 

sail 
Fill to the breeze, did ye hear not the dirge of a 

northern gale ? 
\\'as there no dim forelx:)ding-. no word of warning 

fear. 
Or nothing but hope and God-speed for friend and 

physician there? 



2o8 T^HE FIRST SHEARING. 

Saddened, across the waters the mother-eyes looked 
on, 

Till even a speck of that sunny shore apart fore\-er 
was gone; 

A sigh for the golden day-dreams, a tear for a fair 
boy's grave, 

Then a resolute turn to the future, out on the deso- 
late wave. 

Back and forth on the Battery the father paced at 

morn, 
Shading his eyes in the sunlight, straining them far 

in the dawn ; 
Up and down on the Battery often by night and l)y 

day, 
Hour after hour as the sun went down over the 

widening bay. 

Never a sign of his sorrow, never a word of his fear, 
Till the glad hope of the morning turned to the 

night's despair ; 
Only a line in a letter, "severed from man was he" — 
Broken in heart and mind, it seems — the Patriot 

lost at sea. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 209 



On the Election of President 
McKinley. 

1900. 

You stand to-day, elected 

From out a million peers, 
The highest honor in your hand 

That this free country bears; 
And many myriad hearts will bow 

And bend the knee in prayer, 
Ere you ascend the place assigned, 

That W'isdom greet you there. 

Since Freedom first her flight essayed 

Across the western main. 
No man has stood where now you stand. 

Nor ever may again. 
Removed from party love or hate 

As wide as is the sea. 
Type of a Truth that bears the weight 

Of all humanity. 
14 



2IO THE FIRST SHEARING. 



And iKJt alone this land has fixed 

Her eagle eye on thee; 
The note of welcome sounds afar. 

From sea to further'st sea ; 
Where'er the English tongue is/heard 

That tongue will wish thee well. 
And glory in the flag unfurled. 

Far as its foldines swell. 



Gladstone. 

Not vet the world has summed him ; bye and bye, 
When earth has learnt a lesson hardly won. 
She well may stand astonished at this man — 
The strong and the far-seeing — holding still 
The curb on time, and placing oft a brake 
On error's wheel, that tinhorn ages vet 
Shall rise and bless him for. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 211 



Croatan. 

What had they left behind them, those daring- 
exiles here? — 

A land of kith and kindred, and homes of Endish 
cheer ? 

And M-hat must lie before them? — a future wide 
and dim; 

At morn the note of prayer and praise, at eve the 
vesper hymn. 

W e know not with what yearnings they watched the 

good ship sail. 
That brought them safely to these shores, with 

hearts that dare not quail, 
They looked upon the infant, the wee Virginia Dare, 
The first white blossom of the West, with thoughts 

of hope and fear. 

"\\'e'll come again," the master said, "in one short 

year from now !" 
Alas! there was a death's head wreathed about that 

vessel's prow ; 



212 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



But none could see or heed it, and UDue might say 

them nay; 
W'itli ringing- words of hope and cheer, the good 

ship sailed away. 

"And if you meet with had luck, why. lea\e a cr(3ss 

hehind — 
A something pointing out the way. and we will 

surely find." 
Through winter's snow and summer's heat, through 

rushing of the rain. 
With hearts huo}'ed up with hig-hest ho|)e. they 

looked across the main: 

But none may tell the loss of hope, the days of grow- 
ing fear, 

When ne\'er ship came hack again at passing of the 
year ; 

The child could run and play ere then ; they watched 
her growing fast, 

And vainly to the ocean turned a tear-dimmed gaze 
at last. 

^^'e know not what i)rivations fell, or if that little 

maid. 
Sickened and died, and in the dust the wee fair form 

was laid. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 213 



W'c know not what the winter brought, or what the 

summer rain. 
W't only know three years had passed ere white men 

came aeain ! 



And hut one trace was there of man, of woman or 

of child — 
A word of mystic meaning, unknown, and strange 

and wild, 
Carved on a tree ! \Vhat did it mean, oi place or 

l)ar or ban ? 
They left behind them but one sign — this word of 

Cro-a-tan. 



Death. 

Death ! the avenger ! Death ! the destroyer ! 

Death the dread tyrant when earth is our goal ; 
But an angel of mercy, a messenger holy. 

When the Light of the World is the life of the 
soul. 



214 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Feast Spread. 

"To the healthy soul, life is a continual feast, a banquet 
spread by one whose resources are without limit." 

Oh! soul. Stand still upon the march of life! 
\\'hat have we here, with strength and l^eant}' rife? 
Thy needless toil dismiss, thy strife forhear — 
What food for comfort. fi»r reflection here! 

1\) think, when we ha\e j^assed earth's little span, 
It may he that real Life has just hegan. 
That all the wondrous dawning- of that Day 
Idas fnimd us hlind, and careless of the way! 

What does it mean — this feast so richly spread. 
That some approach with tremhling and with dread. 
Unmindful of the care that safel}' guides. 
Or of the loving- forethought that provides? 

Faint heart or hra\e! down on thy knees t(^-day 
For stich a glad awakening! — come what may. 
Thou stand'st apart — a hlessed niche to fill — 
Thv needs rememhered l)v Almighty will. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 2 1 



Lines to a Bride. 

From my sheltered cot in a Sontliern wood 

I would send you a greeting, dear, if I could — 

A message sweet as the skies are blue. 

Strong and tender, loving and true. 

That should run like a thread of burnished gold. 

Through your married life from the new to the old. 

Years of experience only can tell 
W'e have wedded wisely or loved too well — 
Have given our wealth of love untold. 
For sordid dross or the heart's best gold. 
For the wealth of a life-time, full and true. 
jNIeasure for measure, and always new. 

Whatever comes in the future dim. 

From the dregs of woe to the cup to the brim 

Filled to o'erflowing, joyous and free. 

I can only w'ish what God wills for thee ; 

Knowing full well, from earth's varied store, 

From her garnered wealth love could ask no more. 



2i6 • THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



Wm. C. Whitney. 

As when a great man dies the world looks on 
Its pride of pomp and p(»\ver for once all gone: 
And bares its head — its hoary head that best 
Knows bnt to censure — here at length at rest, 
That earth should bring from out her millions given 
One such as this — attuned to highest heaven. 

Great not in wealth and gifts alone, but heart 
Valiant as hero where the waysides part 
'Twixt right and wrong, }'et mighty to believe 
The good in man and of that Faith receive. 
A blessing to his race and to his day. 
Like sun of beauty with no fading ray. 

That when it sets with such a setting rare. 
Of good deeds told not here l)ut otherwhere. 
In rec(^rds that old Time's decaying trace 
]\Iay never handle, much less dare efface — 
The hushed world turneth to the triumph song 
That such as he mav vet to earth belong. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 

The Open Grave. 

OCTOKKK, 1902. 

I STOOD beside an upen grave, 

One lovely autumn day; 
The Faith and Love that yet may save 

From me were far away. 
I heeded not the foliage fair. 

Of crimson and of gold, 
I only saw the sepulchre. 

With all its grief untold. 

"What," queried Doubt, "is life at best, 

A burden and a care, 
Tn age a curse, a sad behest. 

In youth at most a snare?" 
And then I turned, and o'er the grave 

A little tioweret grew ; 
A tiny sprig of living green, 

With bloom of palest blue. 

Hope blossomed in that little flower. 
And Love and Faith were there. 



217 



2i8 'fHE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

The hot tears fell ! I blessed the hour 
That taught me trust and prayer; 

I saw no more the open gra\"e — 
I only saw a bloom. 

That grew straight from a living seed 
Across the yawning tomb. 

So plant we Death — a germ oi Life, 

In hope and love and tears. 
From out the restless human strife. 

From all the surging years ; 
To bloom again, by breezes fanned, 

A blossom wondrous fair. 
And kissed by sunshine in a land. 

Apart from sin and care. 



Aunt Nancy. 



Tiiou bearest a name beloved, that to ouv hearts 
Is like the breezes, soft and low. that waft 
O'erladen orange gro\"es. where bloom and fruit 
Mingle in rich profusion. Thus for thee and thine 
We pray rich blessings on thy way. till it may bloom 
To fuller l)eautv in the land of life. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



219 



Gone Before. 

Thou art inn dead! — The soul that smiled in mine 
With all its sweet insistence of the past. 

Is happier now. arrayed in garb divine 
\n limitless expanses, fair and vast. 

Thou art not dead! — not dead indeed to me. 
Who followed thy earth-life with loving jest. 

And care that knew not care, so glad and free, 
In the pure beauty of thy presence blest. 

Thou art not dead ! — thou laidst a garment by. 
With gentleness and patience meekly worn. 

Long ere the sun near'd the meridian sky. 

And just in time to catch thy spirit's morn. 

Thou knowest enough of earth to minister 

To "heirs" who journey on the upward way. 

Thy own and others — and 'tis even here 

Thou wouldst have chosen if 'twas thine to say I 



220 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



The Fall ot a Tree. 

An oak-tree stood six hundred years, 

Against the storm and l)reeze. 
And lorded it, with sovereign airs. 

O'er ah the other trees; 
It from a tiny acorn grew. 

Nurtured hy sun and rain. 
Kissed hy the mighty Avinds that hlew 

From o'er the (hstant main. 

At first a slender sapling, hent 

By every passing hreeze. 
Its graceful contour fitly hlent 

Against the other trees : 
And year hy year its heauty gained. 

Like everything that grows, 
Its verdure blessed, its strength sustained 

By sun. rain, wind and snows. 

At length there came a golden day. 

With love and heauty rife. 
When every sunbeam paused to play. 

With all there was of life: — 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 221 

A day all other days ab(^ve, 

So fair it was to see. 
The earth below and sky above, 

And all things, glad and free. 

A red-bird lit to sing a lay 
Upon the topmost limb; 

That slender twig has grown to-day 
A giant, stout and grim ; 

Another bird the strain hath heard. 
And, \o ! a note is given. 

In sweetest song to echo long- 
Within the groves of heaven. 

And very soon a home was planned 

With wondrous skill and care, 
Such as on earth no human hand 

Could ever fashion there; 
Then, gently swaying in the breeze, 

Some little lives were blest, 
And no one knew — but just a few — 

That 'twas a red-ljird's nest! 

And summers came and winters passed, 
And manv changes new, 



THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



Around were seen, in grey and green, 
Yet still the oak-tree grew 

A thing of heauty every day. 
The home of many a hird. 

^^'here happy squirrels loved to play. 
And notes of joy were heard. 



Alas! there came another da}', 

A day of ruth and ill. 
\\'hen creatures paused at work or play. 

And trembled and stood still : 
Each beast and bird a strange noise heard, 

A spring was much distressed, 
And rude dismay that noisome day 

Assailed the red-bird's nest. 



The might}' oak-tree trembled 

From liase to tt)i)most liiub; 
Its f|ui\ering resembled 

The passage, dark and grim, 
That some great hero meeteth 

A\'hen all his life is done. 
And time and distance fleeteth 

At life's dread set of sun. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 223 

1 hat tree had hreastecl many a storm, 

In eenturies g-one bv ; 
Another queen its youth had seen, 

'Neath England's cloudy sky. 
The ])right New World beyond the seas 

Was ne\'er dreamed of then. 
Its prime had caught the echoes wrought 

By ever- warring men. 

The hoary .oak-tree trembled, 

It shivered and it fell, 
A mig-hty fall that shook them all 

From hill to deepest dell: 
The end of Nature seemed to be 

In the monarch's fall. 
For none could know what laid it low, 

Or what else might ])efall. 



224 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Take Heart of Grace. 



Take heart of grace, dear soul that throbs to-day 
\\'ith mortal's own misgiving"! — look abo\-e 

The doul>ts and heartaches that beset thy way, 

And see through Faith and Hope divinest love. 



Take heart of grace! — The world is full indeed 
Of strong", true soul-lights! — tra\ellcrs every 
one — 

Who tell by daily patience, hourly deed. 
That they, too, bask in life's eternal sun. 

"J^ake heart of grace ! — Tho' sin or sorrow hide 
The Daylight from thy view, it yet is there. 

And on Time's wa\e flows a resistless tide. 
That yet shall work a miracle e'en here. 

Take heart of grace! — The promises for thee. 
Are sure and certain as when they were new ; 

And one day it may be thine eyes shall see. 

In God's good tinie, a wide and glorious view. 



THE FIRST SHEARLWG. 225 

Take heart of grace ! — Tlie soul that faints to-day, 
Xor gathers needful strengthening while it can, 

Will fail and falter at a greater day, 

\\'hen earth no longer labors "neath a ban ; — 

A ban of her own making. Never yet 

The All-wise Father hath decreed us ill ; 

Then up and up. O soul, beyond regret 

And all that clogs thy higher, holier will. 



Grandma. 

Only a line, and just a line, to tell. 
That as the years pass by I love thee well; 
Thy love is mine, and mine thy greater joy — 
And not alone because is mine thy boy - — 
But just because I am a mother, too. 
And Love has joined us — God be thanked, 'tis 
so! 



15 



226 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



What Mean These Words? 

"Every door is barred with g-old and opens l^ut to 

golden keys." 
Within a Christian ( ? ) conntry, what mean such' 

words as these? 
That Mammon walks abroad at noon, a g'od of brass 

and gold : 
And sits within the temples, a rare sight to behold, 
And cc^unts his subjects by the score, aye. l)y the 

million now ; 
That wisdom, intellect and wit low at his footstool 

1)(3\\- : 
That beaut}', purity and truth have long l)een slaves 

to him — 
No wonder that our eyes are blind, for r///.s-/ has 

made them dim — 
Oh! for a prophet, seer of old. to sweep the him 

away. 
And usher in l)y word and deed the long-sought bet- 
ter (la\'. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



227 



The New South. 

Half bashful of her strength she stands to-day, 
And knowuig- weH the hard and devious way 
She hath come up — a path that tends 
To strength and beauty, that shall make amends 
For all the glorious sisterhood to be — 
None more virile or beautiful than she. 

Land of our dearest hopes ! we saw her dwell 
Among her kindred, striving yet to quell. 
The horror that must be. In woe and pain. 
We watched her coming to her own again. 
A queen of peoples, greatest in distress, 
And strong through suffering to heal and bless. 

Land of the cedar, palmetto and pine. 

Linked with all growth of fairest worth is thine; 

Turn to thy children ! — at their feet to-dav 

Lieth a casket ! — open it who may 

Finds wondrous treasure bursting from it still. 

Thy homes and garners with true worth to fill ; 



228 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

The past is l^uried in the weight of years, 
There let it rest with all its hopes and fears; 
And upward, onward, urge thy way to-day 
Where hope and honor beckon thee away. 
Thou shalt fulhl thy destiny sublime ; 
Thv sons shall rank with earth's in e\erv clime. 



To N. G. 

September 3, 1903. 

God'.s love upon her tender heart. 

All o'er the rugged way ; 
God's patience »»n her gentle soul 

Along- the weary day. 
His tenderness upon her grief, 

That ever bows to share. 
And for the darkness of her night, 

His all-absorbing- care. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



229 



Christian Resignation. 



"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed 
be the name of the Lord.'' 



We fashioned two little coffins, 

And linetl them with snowy white. 
And liid our lieautiful darlings 

Away from otn* tear-dimmed sight. 
The house was still and silent, 

No haby fingers nigh ; 
Our hearts were sore and saddened, 

And the years went speeding by. 

But out in the far dim Future, 

We built us a palace fair, 
A temple of Hope, that God would keep 

And cherish our darlings there ; 
And that some day in the unknown 

Side by side we should stand. 
And clasp to our hearts our own again 

In the lieht of the better land. 



230 TH^ FIRST SHEARIXG. 



And then one day. in a summer. 

Another spirit came. 
\\'hite from the hands of its Maker, 

Our love and our care to claim: 
A dear little dimpled darling. 

Sweet and fair to behold, 
\\'ith eyes as blue as the heaven's hue. 

And hair with a g-lint of gold. 

We trust in the nearing Future, 

To clasp our lox'ed again. 
\\ith never a touch on their infant brows 

Of sin or sorrow or pain. 
But oh ! for the dimpled darling 

That lies in our arms to-day. 
We can (Mily l)less with the seer of old, 

"W'ho gi\es and who takes away." 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



231 



The Old Religion. 

They say the world is chano-ino- 

00" 

That faith is growing stale. 
That other cults and finer creeds 

Must very soon prevail ; 
That human minds, enlarg-inp-. 

Strive for a wider love 
Than earth has ever cherished 

From him who dwells above. 

Give me the old religion 

They taught me when a child, 
The wisdom of the ages 

In beauty undefiled : 
The strength that thrives in weakness, 

The love that never stays. 
For time or death or changes, 

The blessed Light of Days. 

The saints and martyrs knew it. 

Whatever men may say, 
The glory of the ages 

Still lights the world to-day: 



232 1'HE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

They broke the path before us, 
A narrow way they trod; 

And stin it leads, and only. 

Straight to our Sa\'iour — God. 



A Name. 

We cannot all be wealthy. 

In money or in fame. 
But each may win a niche of earth, 

And for himself a name. 
A place beside the altar 

Men call an earthly home, 
Where human l(»\e an image rears. 

Unmarred b}' sin or glooiu. 

A name upon soiue human hearts, 

That time shall not efface. 
But gild it with a halo rare, 

In golden letters trace. 
Oh ! grander than a hero's fame 

As told in song and story. 
And lovelier, fairer than the same. 

This name of household o-lorv! 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 233 



The Coming of the Christ Child. 



Across the eastern countries 

A wondrous rumor came. 
That yet in its fulfihiient 

Should set the world aflame ; 
From the far past of ages, 

A hopeful dawning first. 
Until upon the blessed night 

A radiant daylight burst. 

The holy prophets knew it, 

And sent the message on ; 
A king, we read, was troubled, 

And wise men dwelt upon. 
And many hearts in Israel 

Waited with hope and fear 
The long-expected advent 

That drew so surely near. 

Across the eastern midnight 
A mighty message ran ; 

There liad been nothing like it 
E'er since the world began ; 



234 



THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



It gleamed upt)n the heavens, 
A starry l^eacon Ijright, 

And sages travelled from afar. 
Led by its mtn-ino- ligrht. 



Some said a King was coming. 

With powers manifold. 
And many looked in earnest for 

A crown of power and gold ; 
A King of earthly splendor, 

Of Da\id"s royal tree. 
To crush the hated Roman, 

And set his people free. 

But from the Judean mountains 

A man and maiden came. 
To David's town of Bethlehem, 

To enroll their kingly name ; 
And Mary, gentle Alary, rode 

Upon a lowly beast. 
While angels watched that journey rough. 

The highest and the least. 

The little town of Bethlehem 

Was crowded through and through; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



235 



The good man of the inn, he said : 

"1 ha\e no room for you." 
But when he saw the Virgin 

And marked her tender state, 
He gave them all he had — the stall 

Where meek-eyed oxen ate. 

And ]()! upon that blessed night 

A little babe was born. 
And cradled in a manger rough 

Before the earliest dawn. 
Ah! if those crowds in Bethlehem 

Had known the infant King, 
How they w^ould have hastened forth 

Their royal gifts to bring. 

He needed not, that first glad night, 

Man's homage or their cheer ; 
The angels thronged about his cot, 

And love and light w^ere there. 
And o'er the plains of Bethlehem 

Hosannahs burst the skv. 
And roused the shepherds from their sleep 

And told the wonder nigh. 



236 



THE FIRST SHEARIX 



And still upon each Christmas night 

We hear their song again. 
Of peace and glory and good-will 

To all the sons of men. 
Though the old world has listened long 

The story is not old. 
While angels sing and men rejoice 

O'er Bethlehem's precious fold. 



Little Cecil. 

So fair a child, so sweet a cherub, lent 

To gladden all our jjathwa}'! Day by day, 
\\'e watched the Imd unfolding. Heaven-sent, 

Until so sudden it \\as borne away. 
The angels ]io\'ered o'er him from his l)irth, 

And scanned with wistful eyes his path below 
So much of heaven, so little of the earth — 

I think we shall be thankful when we know 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 237 



The Labor of the Hands. 

There are two Httle workers 

Working side by side. 
They always pull together, 

Whatever may betide; 
And they have done the grandest work 

E\'er wrought by men 
With chisel or with hammer, or 

W^ith pencil or with pen. 

They rear'd the old, old cities, 

That baffle men to-day. 
Before the power of science 

Had lent its mighty sway; 
And they ha\-e spann'd the ocean. 

And turned the glowing west 
From forest wild to cities wide, ' 

In wealth and beauty drest. 

There is no task they cannot do, 
With patience and with skill; 

The vast machinery thev form'd 
Is subject to their will; 



238 



rilE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



The powers of mind and matter 

Attend their swiftest speed. 
The fire of liea\-en has lent itself 

To feed their latest g-reed. 

The world is teeming- with their work, 

And they are toiling still. 
O'er land and ocean, far and wide. 

O'er valley, plain and hill. 
And they have k'nit the wide, wide earth 

^^'ith gold and iron liands. 
All honor to their work! 'tis Imt 

The labor of their hands. 



H. M. S. 

Yoi'R pictured face looks out to me to-day. 

Just as serene and hapi)v as of old ; 
Indeed, it seems the canvas has a way 

Of gentle speech and sentence manifold: 
Yet more than twenty years ha\e hurried by. 

Since last I looked into your radiant face. 
And now it seems (or dc^es the picture lie?) — 

The years ha\e added only strength and grace? 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



239 



Anent the War. 

Over the roar of cannon and the whirr of the hul- 

let's hail. 
And over the carnage and slanghter that always in 

war pre\'ail. 
The shrinking courage of women and the children's 

nameless fear. 
The wail of the Kishineff victims sounds ever loud 

and clear. 

Spite of the pitiful justice meted in later days, 

Spite of the weakening monarch scanning the peace- 
ful ways : 

Even and always we hear it, beside and before, in 
the ban — 

Where the battle is raging the hottest — the moan 
of the tortured man. 

E\er and always heeding the world of thought leads 

on — 
Thousands of graves unnumbered, thousands of 

eood men o-one ; 



240 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Ever and always listening — who torture the He- 
brew here — 

Must reckon with .Abraham's Master — must bend 
to the whip-lash near. 

Over the hail of the Inillets, the bursting (jf boat 
and shell, 

Beyond the roar of the cannon, sounding the sea- 
men's knell. 

Mingled with strife of the nati<»ns. a clear stern 
whisper runs — 

Beyond the heat of the conflict, and o\er the boom- 
ins^ ornns. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



241 



Lost. 

A GOLDEN opportunity 

That never can return 
However much we strive for it 

Or hope or wait or yearn. 

A liunian love — so beautiful, 

W'ith bliss akin to pain, 
And hallowed by the veil of years 

That never comes again. 

A living- soul, once clear and pure. 
And sparkling in its spring 

That back to life and light and hope 
No power on earth can bring. 

No power on earth ! The fading past, 

The changes and the sod. 
Have stamped and sealed it f(^r all time, 

But nought is lost with God ! 



16 



24- 



THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

Over the Tay. 

December 28, 1879. 

\\'e stood on the little platform, 

And the dear mother said goodbye! 

-\nd we noticed the tear-drop tremble 
That shone in her Instroiis eye. 

"Only a week — seven days — 

Then home again, mother dear!' 

The father cheerily uttered. 1 

But he could not stay that tear. 

Then into the iron monster! 

Over the rails away, 
On to our destination. 

On to the Bridge of Tay. 

And we thought of the dear ones at home — 

Mother and little Jane; 
And the fierce wind whistled away, 

And downward pattered the rain. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



243 



There was father and Bob and T 

Going to see Uncle Will ; 
A week in the town for conntry folk, 

Bnt the crnel wind whistled still. 

Slowly, snrel}- we near'd the Bridge, 
And said, "We'll soon be there!" 

Yet we nestled together closer. 
For we felt a horrible fear, 

Bnt the father whispered bravely, 

Amid the mighty wdnd, 
"My boys, we'll offer up a prayer 

With the dear ones left behind!" 

He spoke ! and he held ns nearer — 

We were over the surging Tay; 
Another minute, and we were safe ; 

So we bowed our heads to pray. 

A mighty blast and a mightier fall, 

A feeling of horror dread ; 
\\t had stopped! we had gained the other side! 

We were sinking — ay! sinking instead. 



2^_^ THE FIRST SHEARLXG. 



We felt the cold chill of the water, 
\Yq looked to the Giver of breath, 

And, locked in each other's arms. 
We sank in the folds of death. 

Fated bridge o'er noble Tay ; 

Few heard the smothered cry ; 
A blast, a struggle, and a ])rayer. 

And down they sink to die. 

Can this be well ! we donljting ask. 
Hush ! for He knoweth best, 

And at His time, and in His way, 
He gives his ]o\'ed ones rest. 



To a Beautiful Woman. 

So fair and pure and yet so strong withal. 
Thou daughter of the centuries, holding well 
A lease on time, and }et apart to-dav 
Thy jewel of a soul, well-poised, well-set 
And shedding radiance wide. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



245 



An Incident of a P'ire. 

Sunday Afternoon, March 26, 1882. 

Smashing through the debris, 

Over the burning wood. 
On 'mid tiie smoke and the smother — 

There where a cradle stood ; 

While its tiny occupant, trembling. 

Lay between life and death, 
Unnoticed amid the glare and the din, 

Fanned by a demon's breath ! 

And a mother's heart was wailing 

A prayer to the God above 
For her darling's weal, in the pitiful tones 

That thrill forth a mother's love. 

It was but the work of a minute — 

Only the test of the man — 
And the mother received her child again 

And never a hurt could she scan. 



246 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

And the hero passed from her presence 
Unmarked in the tumult wild, 

With reward that was greater than mortal" 
He had saved the life of a child! 



Courage, Grit, Honor. 

There is somethini;- better tlian miaiey, 

With all that mi»ney can l)uy: 
Something stronger than lox-e itself. 

Though lo\'e can ne\'er die : 
Some men will call it courage. 

And others ])ronounce it grit. 
But ] like the name old-fashioned — 

The name of honor — for it. 

"]"is fairer than woman's beauty. 

Purer than infant's brow. 
Greater than any ])lace or i^ower. 

Than e\-en the Death-King now; 
The body may die. but it liveth. 

Through all the ages to be — 
The right of a soul to uph(»ld itself. 

Untrammeled and true and free. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



247 



A Fable. 

A LITTLE sheep was l3rowsing' 

Within a pasture fair, 
Unmindful of a hungry wolf 

That lurked so slyly near. 

It was a happy little sheep, 

Of a contented mind : 
Alas ! the woodland lay before, 

The pasture green behind. 

And bye and bye in brownest garb. 
With mien and voice serene, 

The sly old wolf came out and browsed 
Upon the pasture green. 

She chatted with the little sheep. 

And said, "I'll take you where — 
Beyond the woodland, up a hill — 

There lies a pasture fair. 



248 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

"The grass is long and lush and green, 
Beyond your knowledg'e here. 

You are a likely little sheep, 
And I will lead vou there." 



With guileless hrow she listened 
And trusting heart within. 

But in the darkest woodland 
The old wolf took Jicr in! 



To a Minister of the Gospel. 

Abox'e, yet close ahout thy |)eo|)le here, 
A consecrated life he thine to ])ear, 

Divinest charity that knows no fear. 

And loving fax'or — strong to persevere. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 249 



The First Thanksgiving. 

As we gather around the board to-day, 

In a spirit of thankful praise, 
Let us take a glance down the backward way 

To the first of Thanksgiving days. 

And turn our minds to the olden time. 
When this wide land was new, 

And a foreign soil and a stranger clime 
Sheltered the gallant few. 

The harvest season two months near, 
Their bread gave out, we read, 

x\nd but a pint of corn was there 
For all their bitter need. 



What did they do — that little band - 

The hostile savage nigh, 
A starving few in an unknown land ! 

Did thev curse their God and die? 



250 



THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



Ah ! no ; tor they were made of stui^' 
Of Nature's firmest mould ; 

Though fate he never yet so rough, 
Tlieir hearts were twice as hold. 

They gathered on an open space, 

Men, women, children all. 
And looked right squarely in the face 

Whatever might hefall. 

And then upon the A'irgin sod, 
Beneath the bright blue sky, 

They knelt and prayed their leader, God, 
To keep His succor nigh. 

Dividing that one pint of C(~irn, 
They ate in faith and prayer, 

Nor dwelt upon the hope forlorn. 
That held them constant there. 

And when the precious corn at last 

Its crimson tassels hung. 
They made a feast to break their fast. 

And went their foes am()ng. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



251 



And asked three hundred red men 

To celebrate the day, 
When Hope for them looked up again 

Upon the rugged way. 

And bountiful the feast they laid 

Their recent foe before: 
Wild turkey from the forest glade, 

And venison galore. 

No stint of bread or meat was there 
Though rude the board might be - 

A grass-plot in the open air, 
Yet generous, thankful, free. 



A Minister's Wife. 

A PERFECT Poem, fair and pure. 
Whose matchless beauty shall endure; 
A mother-heart that bows and sways, 
To purer living — holier days. 



2C2 THE FIRST SHEARiyC. 



The New Year. 

And yet another on the rack of hfe. 

Tender and fair. 
Exposed to all its ever-varying strife — 

The new-horn }-ear. 

To hlossom forth in heauty with the spring. 

And snmmer's glow. 
Autumn's rich fruitage o'er the world to fling 

And die 'mid snow. 

Minutes and hours and swiftly passing days, 

So many and no more. 
Oh! feehle infant, with thy first shy gaze, 

\\'hat hast hefore? 

AVill it he weal or woe or murk}- care, 

Or hearts at rest? 
Yet silence! well 1 know that ex'en there 

Is euidance hlest. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



March Winds. 

1 LO\'E tlie Ijlustery winds of March 

That are so rough and free; 
They toss al^c^iit and caper so, 

And roar of hberty, 
And ever on the fresh'ning air 

Sweet violets' breath they fling, 
That comes to me from otlier days 

Of dear (jld England's spring. 



253 



You may shiver by your firesides 

And there you'll never know. 
That in these winds so much abused 

Is life's ecstatic glow: 
But don your hat and warmest cloak 

And sally forth to-day; 
How keen it is! how young you feel, 

How brisk you step away. 

I love the blustery winds of March. 

They sing a song t(^ me. 
Of hope and life, and anchor strong 

Upon life's roughest sea; 



254 



THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

And with the violet's fragrance 
That they must ever hring. 

Rough l)ut kindly 'round my path 
A 1)lessinp- rich thev flin"-. 



Use your Talent. 

If you ha\e only one talent. 
And it the ele\'enth hour. 

Do not despair nor ])ut it away — 
Who knoweth its untried power? 

No matter how small or how lowly. 

That g'ift is yours alone; 
And just as you use it. soon or late, 

It will ht you for chain or throne. 

Then up with your head triumphant. 
That somewhere t(t }'ou is given 

A place that fits in the Master's plan 
Under the arch of hea\'en. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



255 



By the Logwood Fire. 

As I sit by the logwood fire. 

In the l)laze of its cheerful glow, 

^^'atching the daring flames leap higher. 
And the ruddy depths below, 

I think of the wayward passions 

That mar the bright hopes of man ; 

Of the ruddy glow in the heart below 

That should prove in the end their ban. 

And I sigh, alas I for their failure. 

Fading and dying a\\ay, 
Till there's nothing left but the space bereft, 

And the heap of ashes gray. 

Rut the fire is bright and glowing. 

And fierce beyond my ken. 
And a l)etter feeling comes o'er me 

Of the wars and the deeds of men. 



256 THE FIRST SHEARIXC. 

And I think of the ceaseless striving, 
Of tlie snares and temptations met, 

Tri)dden and crushed and trampled down, 
Till all are with lite-hlood wet. 

(Jf the many deeds done in the darkness, 
Bright with the sun's own light. 

Of the hra\e endeaNor. faltering never, 
To c<)n(juer the wrong with the right. 

And I read in the glowing emhers 
That fall from the flames above, 

A wonderful scroll of the }"ears that roll 
In letters of hope and love. 



A Picture. 

The baby wears a winsome face. 
And Grandma bears a winsome grace — 
Look smiling on the mother-eyes. 
That borrow something fr(tm the skies. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



257 



Trinity Church. 



We carried tmr dead when our liearts were sore 
W'itli their weight of woe through that open door, 
And laid liim to rest l)y the chancel there 
For the henediction and the prayer. 
Assured that life in the unknown giveth 
A home and a rest where the absent liveth. 

And the bride came there with her tlower-like face, 

Jn the winsome bloom of her maiden grace, 

Her white robe swept the sacred floor, 

Her hand a white-bound prayer-book bore; 

A mist in her eyes, an awe in her voice. 

As she plighted her troth to the man of her ch(3ice. 

And passed down the aisle a vision bright 

As ever gladdened our mortal sight. 

We came again when the years had sped. 
And brought the babe with the sunkissed head.. 
And gave him back to his Maker there. 
By the solemn vow and the earnest prayer. 
17 



258 THE FIRST SHEARING. 

And uur hearts were still in their holy ioy — 
That God had accepted onr infant bov. 
Strong in onr faith that he should live 
Redeeming- the promise 'twas ours to give. 



Longfellow. 

March 24, 1SS2. 

Longfellow dead? Yon jest forsooth! 
Death means oblixion. And when can genius die? 
Within a darkened chaml)er of that silent house 
The form that garb'd a poet's soul may lie 
Inanimate to-day: but, oh! not Longfellow! 
His "foot-prints in the sands of time" shall outlive 

time, 
E'en to eternity ! 

And yet you tell us right ! That noble brow 
With honor crowned and years; those soul-lit eyes, 
The Poet's humane heart, are now no more! 
Aye! weep, Columbia, o'er thy gifted dead, and 

let an anthem swell 
That such an (^ne has ]i\ed. ior not the 
I^oet onlv, l)ut the man was God-like. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



259 



Innocence and Guilt. 

An artist wanted a model. 

Of innocence pure and fair; 
He searclied through the city in vain 

To find what he wanted there. 

So into the countr}- he went. 

The country smihng and fair. 
Where the sweet summer roses l)loomed 

And the hay-mows scented the air. 

And. strolHng- along, he came 

To a hamlet, peaceful and still ; 

\\'here the children played in the grassy lanes 
And the wheat waved on the hill. 

He came at length to a cottage ; 

He smiled at the children near; 
And paused at length hy a wicket gate, 

He had found his model here. 



26o '^'HE FIRST SHEARING. 

A boy of some few short summers, 

With a wealth of golden hair, 
That ti:)sse(l in natural ringlets 

At the bid of the summer air. 

A child with a face that blossomed. 

Like the roses in the lane: 
A shaded l)row and deep blue eyes. 

Strangers to sin and pain. 

And the artist painted the picture. 

The little bare legs and the feet. 
The chubby hands and the rounded arms. 

And the face so pure and sweet. 

It was only a cottage child. 

In purity's angel fold : 
A simple picture true to the life. 

Yet it brought him fame and gold. 

For women gazed upon it 

A\'ith e}'es that grew less bright. 

And strong men's hearts were strangely mi^ved 
As at a spirit's flight. 



THli FIRST SHEARING. 26 1 

Many }'ears after, the artist 

Resolved to seek andfind, 
A conii)anion to the picture. 

And guilt was in his mind. 

He did not g-o to the country. 

Ah! no; in the haunts of men, 

\Miere the houses loomed the thickest, 
He sought his model then. 

Where squalor, misery and want. 

Jostled side by side, 
'Mid sickening death and grim disease. 

He sought, unsatisfied. 

At length he entered prison walls. 

Where, in the light of dav. 
Barred from the world and manacled, 

A wretched felon laA-. 

His matted hair hung dark and thick. 

His eyes were dim and wild ; 
His form in rags, his language coarse — 

He was a thino- defiled. 



262 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The artist sluKlclered as he looked, 

And yet his gifted eye 
Beheld the model that it craved 

Before him wretched lie. 

1 le hade the murderer rise and stand, 
And while his picture sped 

He kindly talked ; the man c<;)ndemned 
Hung- low his wretched head. 

"I painted once a picture." 

The artist's voice was mild. 

He told what I haA'e told, rang out 
'T was that little child!" 

''Alas! what hrought you to this place. 
To crime's disastrous hrink?" 

And he replied in hoarse accents, 
"^Nlan's cruel curse of drink." 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



263 



The Burial of Tennyson. 

Ave! Bend the knee and bare the bi-(3\v. 

Before yon simple bier, 
AJore than a monarch Heth low — 

More than a king is here. 

No common sceptre did he wield 

The souls of men to sway ; 
No blood-bongiit crown on battle's field 

O'er his rich dust shall lay. 

Bring- HUes and immortelles white. 

The laurel and the bay, 
And roses bright with love's own light. 

Upon his toml) to lay. 

And north and south, and east and west. 

And lands beyond the sea. 
Both near and far, who loved him best 

In godlike sympathy; 

Draw near the last respects to pay 

To England's gifted son, 
A\'ho yet in many a sweetest lay 

Shall in our hearts live on. 



264 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Railroad Boys. 

Gay Moore and Charlie Porter. 

(November 22, 1903.) 

With tlie hand upon the throttle. 

And the death-dew on the face. 
Swaying- down tlie darkened mountain 

God in hea\'en — w hat a race ! 
Well they knew l)eside the head-lights 

Death was coming swiftly on. 
Youth and hope and life's ambition 

Instantly, fore\'er gone. 

If the down-grade through life's \alley 
Were of life the brightest part. 

Well might women mourn their dearest 
Streaming e}'es and breaking heart. 

God be thanked! There is an upgrade. 
Leading to the land of light — 

Who shall sa}- they ha\'e not made it 
riirousj'h the horror of that nii>ht? 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 265 



Lines, 

Addressed to the State Organizer, Sons ok Temperance, 
DURING A Trip in Western North Carolina. 

I CANNOT send you forth, my love, 

.\s heroes went of old, 
With shining helmet, sword and shield. 

And cross of glittering gold. 

But I can hid you go to-day 

To tight as cruel a foe. 
As any the crusaders fought 

In days long time ago. 

A foe that spares not man or maid. 

Or wife, or habe at hreast. 
Whose thirst for hlood is never quenched. 

Who knows no tire nor rest. 

Go, with the shining helmet. Faith, 
That God will right the wrong. 

True liberty shall dawn at length 
To those who suffer lono-. 



266 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



Thy sword, the Hving JJ'oni of God, 
To strike the monster dead, 

1 liy Sliirld. His ne\'er failing care. 
Through all the ])aths you tread. 

The Cross the old crusaders wore 
Take for a victor's crest ; 

Be strong, he true, be fearless, bold. 
And leave to God the rest. 



God's Mercy. 

And hast thou sinned? Then draw apart to-day 
And bless thy God for all the wondrous way 
His love hath led thee : ever guiding on — 
Unknown to thee — until thv cn^wn is won. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



267 



Mother's Da 



y« 



You must wake ere day — ere the chanticleer 
Has voiced liis cry on the still night air; 
You nmst make the hre and the hreakfast get. 
And not forget your yeast to set. 

You must hx it soon, ere the morning light. 

Moulding it twice, and bake ere night ; 

Grind the coffee and chat awhile. 

And hid "good bye" with a cheerful smile 

To the hel]:)meet who thinks of you all day l<Mig. 

And tries to make yc^iur life a song. 

Then call the children, and hear their prayers. 
Give 'em their breakfast and still their fears; 
Wash their faces and comb their hair. 
Button their clothes and lunch prepare. 
And send them rejoicing on their way 
To the blessed school, and turn and stay 
The baby's fears, and bathe him, too. 
And keep him bright and free from woe; 
And wash the dishes, and sweep, and clean, 
And read voiu" Bible and news between. 



268 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Vou must milk and churn, if a cdw you possess, 
And feed the chickens — they ah wiU bless; 
And make the beds, and mend the clothes, 
And get the dinner — no time to k^se ; 
For study will make the children yearn 
P\)r the hour of noon and the home return; 
So have it ready, the tal)le neat. 
Big- baby in and the little one sweet ; 
And if you must really read or write, 
\\ hy, get it done ere the hours of night. 

You must answer the door and be polite 

To the picture man and the borrowing blight; 

You must always be neat and cheerful, too, 

So the children will think no mother like you 

Can ever by any chance be found 

In any part of the earth's wide l)ound ; 

A simple supper and early to l)ed, 

A talk and a kiss — for each wee head. 

Then wash the dishes and sweep the tioor, 

And thank v(uu- Maker for one tlav more. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Merrie Christmas ? 

When the wolf is at the door, 

And no coal is in the bin, 
And there's sawdust on the floor. 

How let jMerrie Christmas in? 
With his frolic and his laughter, 

How make room for Santa Claus, 
Joy and litter following after 

For the happy girls and boys? 

\\'hen the sawdust on the floor 

Comes from wood that's darkly got. 
And no smoke goes up before 

The lonesome and the empty pot ; 
How make room for Merrie Christmas, 

\\'\t\\ its frolic and its cheer, 
When no ray of hope is dawning 

And "Ole Pete" is hovering near? 

Hearts that tremble when the season 
Comes around for childhood's joys. 

Often without rhyme or reason, 
Alwavs with so much of noise, 



269 



270 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Look not in, Init outward ever — 
Something may lie near to cheer; 

Lend a hand, and now if ever 

Give some gladness to the year. 



- Ox-eye Daisies by Moonlight. 

Weighted with dew beneath the moon's pale glow, 
A field of daisies gleaming weirdly white, 

Looking like fairies thronging there below, 
Lending m}\steri()ns l^eauty ti) the night. 

Gentlest of breezes stealing softly by. 

Yet lingering shyly on each upturned face. 
As if in blessing, with almost a sigh. 

And lea\ing just a hint of swaying grace. 

So, mutely eloquent and sweetly still. 

The daisies murmur with no uttered word. 
Above, about them, lies the wooded hill — 

Hushed to their slumber notes of bee and bird. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 27 1 



The Firsi Rose. 

The first rose of summer, all blooming and gay, 
And lifting its head on a morning in May, 
Wooed by the sunshine and kissed by the breeze. 
And sheltered by shade of the sweet maple trees. 

The first rose of summer! June brides will be here, 
To crown with their beauty the blossoming 3'ear, 
And school will be out and children at play. 
And teachers be off, away and away. 

The first rose of summer, a wee maiden fair. 
The kiss of the morning that gleams in her hair, 
Tells to my heart, as the blue of her eyes. 
Somewhere in the future a glad summer lies. 

Untainted by sorrow, unmarred by regret. 
Forgotten of all life's W(M-ry and fret. 
And sweet as the rose, with its petals so fair. 
That nods to me gailv — the first of the vear. 



2^2 THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Day Dawn. 

A SOMETHING in(letina])le, uncertain, misty grev, 
Tliat is not light or darkness, yet surely heralds 

day — 
A dimming- of the lesser lights, a solitary star, 
(iradually receding, like some faint hope afar. 

A daring streak of silver athwart the Eastern sky, 
A changing of the lower world, a mightier change 

on high. 
For grey has turned to silver, and siher unto gold. 
And all the morning's heauties, around, ahove un- 
fold. 

And soon from out the golden hue a dazzling mon- 
arch gleams. 

And sends the pulsing life-hlood through a thousand 
A\aiting streams. 

And wakes the feathered songsters, and opens every 
flower. 

And rouses drowsy mortals at lal)or's gifted hour. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 273 

And many feet are stirring-, and busy hands and 

brain. 
And liearts that throb with varied beat renew their 

hfe again ; 
The warfare of the world gt)es on with mighty throb 

antl throe. 
And nature kee})s her i)ace l)eside each deed of weal 

or woe. 

And lo ! another da}--dawn Inxaks o'er the sunrise 

hills, 
'Tis very faint and far as yet. but all the wide earth 

fills. 
And from ten myriad voices and hearts that bear the 

strife. 
The hope that this dawn gi^'es ascends in words of 

hre and life. 



274 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



The Optimist. 



Everything is our own. 

The earth, the sea and the air; 

The sky above, and the weaUh of love 
That foldeth us exerywhere. 

Everything is our own. 

To love and cherisli and win. 

From the heavenly birth to the lowliest earth- 
All but the taint of sin. 

That belongs to the de\il. 

Wdiatever others may say ; 
For the wealth of life is ever at strife 

With evil e\ery day. 

Everything is our own ; 

Away with all slavish fear; 
The Hand that made has never been stayed 

In its bountiful largess here. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 275 



Pea Vines in November. 

Pea vines abloom by the river, 
Lulled by its peaceful flow, 

Down in the sand, blessed by the hand 
That surely the fairies know. 

Pea vines abloom in November, 

Under this season bland; 
\\t can eat peas in December 

A\'hen Yule-tide is at hand; 

What mystery rides in the moon-beams, 
A\'hat alchemy worketh to-day. 

That the first crop of next season 
Is already under way? 

Oh ! come, says a skeptical Northman 
Yon planted them there by stealth, 

And, slyly and daily tending. 

You nursed them up to health. 



276 T'HE FIRST SHEARING. 

Pea A'ines abloom in November 

Out on a bar of sand, 
Come if you fail to believe it, 

And see this wonderful land. 

Where summer saunters till Christmas, 
And breezes of June are here, 

^^'ith roses and daisies and violets 
To o-arland the dying- year. 



Good Frida 



Y' 



Stupendous sacrifice on Calvary's hill ! 

The world has turned and yet Avill turn once 
more 
,Ai)|)aled, and w ith her throbbing- heart all still — 

That such a Fruit her lustful sinning bore. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 277 



• To a Feathered Visitor. 

[Many bird-lovers have noticed the return in vast numbers 
to our groves of the canary birds (so called), after an absence 
of several years.] 

What are you doing in gold and green. 

You wee little bird to-day? 
"Tis many a year since you were seen 

Up in the hills this way. 

Have you come from lands of the orange bright? — 

Its livery you wear. 
Have you left its heat, its wondrous light, 

To stay with us up here? 

\\t welcome you back to our groves to-day, 

So gay, so cunning are you : 
So friendly and bright, we hope you will stay, 

A link of the old with the new. 

The naughtv sparrow may quarrel and fight. 

Rut you just leave him alone, 
For you have a place that is yours by right — 

Let him keep his wooden throne. 



278 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

The bowers and the trees are all for you, 
The Sim and the breeze and the rain ; 

So, dear little bird, to our homestead new 
^^'e welcome vou back asrain. 



Sins ot Omission. 

God keep us from the weighty sin 

That looms aclown the years — 
Unknown without, yet Nciled within 

B}- countless sighs and tears. 
The healing word unspoken. 

The message sent too late. 
The easy promise liroken — 

So-called a ruthless fate. 

Sometimes a prctmpting Cometh 

From source unknown to me, 
To take a certain pathway — 

^Another soul to see — 
And if 1 sliglit the call to-da}' — - 

Or careless let it go — 
God give us grace u|)on the wa}' 

To shun remorse's throe. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 279 



Easter. 

A NOTE of peace and gladness. 

A song of joy most high; 
A pean of thanksgiving. 

Fills all the earth and sky; 
No more can death triumphant 

Hold man is gloomy thrall; 
For Love Divine hath conquered. 

And giveth life to all. 

Oh! hearts liowed down with sorrow, 

Lift up your gaze to-day ; 
And grief that knows no morrow, 

Cast from thee, far away; 
The very heavens hrighten. 

The old earth smiles anew. 
A message that can lighten 

Your burden comes to you. 

Yet. why will hearts, oft erring, 
From gladness turn away. 

i\nd shun the brother sharing 
Our verv life to-dav?" 



28o THE FIRST SHEARING. 



Alas ! that Easter morning- 
Should find the wide earth still, 

Despite her g-ay adorning, 
Snhject to every ill. 



A Word. 

You lent a helping hand 

To a sinner l)y the way; 
You did not understand 

The deed you did that day ! 
'Twas like the li\ing seed 

On fertile ground that fell — 
Across the desert's screed 

As bloom of asphodel. 

'Twas nothing hut a tender word 

Along the busy way. 
Yet one weak brother trembling heard 

And checked his speed that day: 
A rope unto a drowning man. 

A brake on down-hill grade — 
1 think an Angel paused t(^ scan 

The record that von made. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 281 



Autumn. 

The melancholy days, forsooth! — I call them days 

of cheer. 
The gladdest and the merriest of all the happy year. 
When Nature takes a holiday, with all her garnered 

store, 
And decks with riotous coloring the falling leaves 

the more. 

1 cannot see the sadness, when all around is gay — 

When blush of morning splendor reveals the coming- 
day : 

When old dame Nature dons her robe of purple and 
of gold, 

And decks her with the rainbow^ hues in beauty 
manifold. 

Away with thoughts of sadness ! — fruition time is 

here, 
And soon the joys of Christmas will crown the 

happy 5-ear; 
W^ith thankful hearts and voices we raise a joyous 

song. 
And speed the goodwill of the day in chorus grand 

along. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A Rose in November. 

What dost thou here, a-blooming on thy stem, 
At this late hour, tliou summer's diadem? 
Or hath it liai)|)ened that some fair^- hand 
Hath laid a talisman upon the land. 
That thus thou blot)mest so serenely here. 
When other skies are dull and cold and drear? 

Back o'er the years, as far as I rememlier, 
A synonym for dullness was November: 
With sleet and rain and cruelly chilling blast. 
All verdure hurrying" to its doom at last: 
Yet here thou art, as beauteous and as fair 
As if the warm June sunshine filled the air. 

I think of some dear s])irits I haxe known. 

Just like a rose in beauty fully blown. 

And sweetest when the frosts were coming on, 

And the long year with all its hopes was gone; 

Glad to be fragrant, thankful at the last. 

For all the summer's fullness — tempests passed. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 283 



A Grand Thought. 

No matter what straits you travel through, 
No matter what Inirdens cr)me to you, 

An uphill road. 

And a heavy load — 
"For back of it all is God!" 

Should blinding sorrow l)e yuur ban. 
Affection blighted — curse of man ! — 

And carking care 

Lie e\erywhere — 
"Yet back i)f it all is God." 

Though brutal war the nations shake, 
And homes to their foundations quake. 

And greed and strife 

]\Iar human life — 
"Yet back of it all is God." 

If Christians 1)end the knee in prayer. 
And worship Mammon everywhere. 

With selfish mien 

And eye serene — 
Yet "back of it all is God." 



284 ^^^^ FIRST SHEJRIXG. 



The Camp-Fire. 

Bv sunny Cuba's well tVaight slopes, 

In isles beyond the sea. 
"Xcath mothers" prayers and sweethearts' hopes. 

By many a stranger tree, 
The soldier-laddies' camp fires 

Glow in the solemn night. 
Afar from home, by beach and coomb, 

A very gladsome sight. 

Where grew some China martyred 

Her victims by the score: 
\\'hen hand in hand with brother's sons 

They marched the Orient o'er; 
'Neath burning skies in lands afar, 

W'here icy north winds l)low. 
By many a shore in climes galore. 

The rudd}' camp-fires glow. 

So by earth's love of freedom. 

Wherever truth holds sway. 
\\'e welcome in their fullness, 

The tented hosts to-dav. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 285 

Long" may the genial canip-hre. 

B}' hill and coast and glen. 
Till war shall cease in endless peace, 

Glow in the hearts of men. 

The Mine at Hot Springs. 

(With Apologies to Mr. Rumhough.) 

I LIKE that mine with its mighty depths. 

As deep as the deep blue sea. 
And eig-ht miles long! but I want to know 

Where will Hot Springs be. 
When they delve, and l)last. and undermine 

That wee wee \'ale so far -^ 
The lovely falls and the wondrous springs 

And the beauties of na:ture there? 

The groves and the walks and the circling hills, 

If that mine is four miles square! 
]\Iy fond heart sinks — and I'd like to know 

Where is Hot Springs — where? 
"\\m11 they sink it low to Limbo, 

\\'hence they told me the waters ran, 
Or hoist it up on the mountains. 

As high as ever they can? 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



An Autumn Walk. 

A SUSPICION of frost in the air. that yet was a fresh- 
ening breeze; 

More than a snspicion of winter in the many-tinted 
trees ; 

Over the hill and the valley, with steps that were 
light and free, 

Drinking in draughts of that life-givvng air, merrily 
sauntered we. 

The shy little rabbit scurried out of our path away. 
And the busy squirrel peeped at us, but never paused 

to stay; 
The blue-bird showed his brilliant hue. yet ht::)pped 

away so shy. 
And from the vale came often up the quail's short. 

plaintive cry. 

The golden rod upon the hill gleamed radiant in the 

sun. 
The purple daisy in the shade, the wild grapes every 

one 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



287 



Put forth their rachant beauty as if to greet us there, 
And giadclened all the wildwood where everything 
was fair. 

And then, with lingering footsteps we passed on 

through the wood, 
Where X^ature's own cathedral in sheeny radiance 

stood ; 
The friendly trees were interlaced, and met above 

our head. 
From lowest unto topmost bough they gleamed with 

gold and red. 

Small wonder that we heeded not the dead leaves at 

our feet : 
Each new and changing beauty we had enough to 

greet ; 
The crimson of the dogwood, the hickory's golden 

hue. 
It seemed to us enchanted land that we were passing 

through. 

And then we climbed the mountain, with thoughts 

of never fail, 
And when we reached the summit the breeze was 

nigh a gale, 



^88 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



And, sitting- down, we rested, and let uuv vision rove 
O'er mountain, field and valley, and many a gleam- 
ing grove. 

The mountains on our left with clouds were making 

friends ; 
Just at their base the river, a line of silver, wends; 
While far and near, in front and rear, the houses dot 

the hills. 
And nestle in the valley. l)y many murmuring rills. 

The sun ^^■as sinking in the west as we walked 

l)riskly home; 
A purple glory wrapt the hills, soon merged in 

nightly gloom ; 
Our walk had taught us many things, apart from 

joy and mirth — 
How grandly fair, how wondrous rare is all the 

good of earth. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



289 



Hemp. 

(He who runs may read.) 

The clothes line hung in an airy place, 

Wed to the sun and the breeze, 
And often displayed, with wayward grace, 

A bloom like the bloom of trees; 
Flaunting colors of red and blue. 

With many a frill bedight — 
Colors, indeed, of every hue, 

And always the snowy white. 

The door-mat lay on a shady place, 

Where never breezes stirred. 
And nothing of beauty or of grace 

About it was seen or heard ; 
It grumbled a little at its lot, 

With hardly a ray to tell. 
Dusty and soiled in its lowly spot. 

That it did its duty well. 

But by and bye, on a glorious day, 
It swayed on the sun-kissed line, 

And all earth's lieauty about it lay. 
Grass and trees and shine : 
19 



2(jo THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 



And it called to mind in the olden days 

That its li)\ely dawning knew. 
That both were wooed l)y the snmmer breeze. 

And bore a blossom l)lue. 



By their Fruits. 

And this is the stuff they sell to-day 

On the streets of a Christian town! 
That maketh demons of honest men. 

And draggeth the- women down ; 
Down to the \-er}- depths of hell — 

Xo language can be too strong — 
There is no speech that is harsh enough 

To \'oice the women's wrong. 

And what of the little children. 

Murdered and maimed to-dav? 
Their cry has reached to the heavens — 

Alas! who s])oil and slav — 
WoQ for the hajjless drunkard. 

Woe for the mothers and wi\-es. 
But an awful fate, for the lust of gold, 

^^d^o blight the innocent lives. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



2i)l 



After All. 

After all that is said and done, 

"Tis the healthiest spot beneath the snn ; 

We may wend back home across the sea, 

Where the fences bli^om, and the rain-clonds be; 

You may journey south to the southern seas. 

And bask in an orange scented breeze, 

But back again you will wend your way, 

W'lien summer comes and the cloudlets stav — 

Happy to bask in our mountain land, 

\\\ih the sunshine regal and ozone bland. 

Wdiat matter if sinners sojourn here? — 

More or less they are everywhere ; 

And never on earth is the perfect spot, 

AVhere vice and its votaries are not : 

We must count the good while we sum the ill. 

And e\er keep faith in our own kind still. 

'Tis bad enough with the whiskey here. 

As Christians, we doubtless are wrong to bear 

The glaring flaw-s in our jewel set. 

But the end — please God — has not entered yet. 



292 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



To a Loved One. 

It never will be. Ah ! love, the vears so 
O'er our heads with the rustle of wings. 
And life is so full of all beautiful things, 
And you and T have so much to do 

That as the days pass every day brings 
\\'ork and endeavor and purpose new — 
So much for us both to live, love, and do — 
It seems sometimes we can never get through. 

Stranger still would it be if we should forget 
In the day of this bright dawn of life; 
In our hey-day of hope with all liberty rife, 

The great and the good that beckon us yet 
To conquer and live in the strife: 

Stranger yet would it be if severed and old 

Our faith should wax dim, our love should grow 
cold. 

And we turn into dross all life's gold. 

You love me not now for beauty of face — 
rVou would lose if you did. I'm afraid, in the 
race ! ) 
But such it is nothing to me. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 293 



For the years will add much to all true-hearted 
grace, 

If true to ourselves we be, 
Leax'ing behind them their firm, tender trace 

Of the Been and the Yet to Be. 

Stranger still would it be 

if you from our home should willingly stay 
Or I should forget you even one day : 
Our forms they may l^end, our faces grow old, 
But never our love in the future grow cold 

Until our life ceases to be. 

For why? We have hn-ed in the dark winter 

day. 
When the sorrows of life grew thick o'er our 
way — 

Forgotten? — It never can be. 

I shall look till my eyes are dim with the years, 
Or bright with the hope that eternity bears. 

For a form and a face that I love — 
And you? You will welcome to your faithful breast 
The true, tender heart that knows there its rest, 

While the years and the world go by 
And we measure them onlv bv love. 



294 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



We will hel[) one another, ah ! love, vou and I, 
Till (please Ciod ) when he calls us in autumn to die 
Strange would it he through good or through ill 
Could we forget Him. or He us — stranger still. 



Shak 



espeare, 



Alas! My Shakespeare! well were it for thee 

Thou liv'dst in an age when might and right 

Were terms synonymous. Else had thy mind, 

Attuned to lofty lays, and knowing all 

jNlan's passion and his greed, and woman's perfidy, 

Have shrunk within itself at so much talk. 

Such rattle of conjecture, worse than vain. 

1 wonder now at times thou turn'st not hack. 

A\ ith all th}- elocjuence afire, at man who dares 

malign tin- name. 
Disputing e'en thy title to thy kingdom. Yet it 

seems 
Content thou must he that it should he so. Or else 

thou holdst 
A place so high in heaven that thy soul 
Can mingle freely with its peers, and feel 
Nothing hut pity, kin to the Divine. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 295 

A Word for the Dog. 

Dedicated to Dr. Bai.i.ard. 

He who hath lost a friend may know 
How sweet the friendship for a dog can grow ; 
The faithful beast will list his master's call, 
And do his bidding whate'er ill befall ; 
Will follow him with eyes whose liquid fire 
Burns to that love and to that love's desire. 

I have had friends and friends who turned away, 
But always by my home my dogs would stay. 
Strong and obedient, swift to go or come, 
Speaking in actions though the tongue was dumb. 

I could leave children with them hour by hour. 
And know them safe from every harmful power; 
And house and stock were theirs a guard to keep. 
By day or night, awake or half asleep. 

And when we lost them by a murderer's hand, 
There fell a shadow o'er the darkening land. 
We wept al:io\-e them and we were not shamed 
To own the tenderness those dumb lirutes claimed. 



296 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



A Plea for the Wildwood. 

Cut down the lordly forest, 

Root up the growth below, 
Trample the fragile wild flowers, 

And lay the fairest low ; 
And rear a modern mansion. 

Bristling with colors grim. 
Of varied architecture. 

Of lineage strangely dim. 

Where purling streams haxe rii)pled 

Beneath the rustling trees, 
And ferns of perfect beauty 

Have wooed the passing breeze; 
Where nature's grand cathedral 

Has reared its l(»fty dome, 
A^'here rodent, bird and insect 

Have made their happy home. 

Lay out the close-cropped terrace. 

Banish the once-cool spring. 
Plant foreign trees and mar the whole 

With carpet gardening; 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



297 



And lea\e a few limli-severed trees 
To mock the scorching sun, 

Then gaze upon and glory in 

The improvements you've begun. 



A Word of Truth. 

That is affection that can hold 

Through years of burning ill, 
That shineth like the perfect gold 

About its object still ; 
And that is friendship that can trust 

Tho' oceans roll apart — 
Above the verdict, dust to dust. 

As beating heart to heart. 

Were time the measure of earth's best. 

How vain were earthly love. 
How puerile friendship's tried behest 

But that it blooms above; 
A flower beyond the blight of time, 

A light that fadeth never, 
Through summer's sun, and winter's rime. 

That shall elow on fi^rever. 



298 THE FIRST SHEARIXG. 

And that is faith, undying- faith. 

That ne\er is (hsmayed. 
No matter what Dame Fortune saith, 

By time and tide ne'er stayed; 
That holdeth Hke a cable strono- 

Through seas of tempest (h^ead. 
An anchor though the world go wrong, 

Vet always hope ahead. 



THE FIRST SHEARING. 



299 



Finis. 

V\'hen the hands are softly folded 

O'er the breast that throbs to-day, 
With the hopes of life immortal, 

Brush not thou thy tears away : 
Let them fall, a thankful shower, 

Ft)r the life so richly gi\-en, 
Freighted with its l<»ve and power, 

At the last complete in hea\'en. 

'Think not of the coming years 

Of fruition crowned of earth; 
Cease from all thy aching fears. 

Rather joy at heavenly birth ; 
Grieve not o'er the beauty missed. 

O'er the sunshine passed away; 
Turn thy gaze where love hath kissed 

Death and night to life and day. 



JUN 24 1&04 



